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CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL
CHANGE
BASED UPON A SOCIOLOGICAL STUDY OF
THE HALIFAX DISASTER
BT
SAMUEL HENRY PRINCE, M. A. (Tor.)
SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS
FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
IN THE
Faculty of Political Science
Columbia University
NEW YORK
1920
Halifax
is not a large city
but there are those who love it
who would choose to dwell therein
before all cities beneath
the skies
All Such
CITIZENS, PAR EXCELLENCE,
I COUNT IT AN HONOR TO DEDICATE
THESE LINES
PREFACE
The following pages €.m)body the result of an observa*
tional study of the social phenomena attendant upon ome of
the greatest catastrophies in history — the Halifax Disaster.
The idea of the work was suggested while carrying out a^
civic community study of the disaster city under the direc-
tion of Professor F. H. Giddings of Columbia University.
The account deals first with the shock and disintegration
as the writer observed it. Individual and group reactions
are next examined in the light of sociological theory.
The chapters on Social Organization are an effort to picture
that process as it actually occurred.
The writer has also tried faithfully to record any im-
portant contribution which Social Economy was able to
make in the direction of systematic rehabilitation. Special
reference is made to private initiative and governmental
control in emergency relief. This monograph is in no
sense, however, a relief survey. Its chief value to the
literature of relief will lie in its bearing upon predictable
social movements in great emergencies.
Nor is the book a history of the disaster. It is rather,
as the title suggests, an intensive study of two social orders,
between which stands a great catastrophe, and its thesis is
the place of catastrophe in social change.
In the preparation of this work, which the author be-
lieves' to be the first attempt to present a purely scientific
ctnd sociological treatment of any great disaster, he has re-
ceived invaluable assistance. A few grateful lines can
ill-express his obligation to his Professors of the Department
7] 7
8 PREFACE [S
of Sociology. To Professor F. H. Gidklings the volume owes
its inspiration and much of its social philosophy. To Pro-
fessor A. A. Tenney it owes its present form and structure
and any literary excellence it may possess. Professor R.
E. Chaddock has read the manuscript throughout and has
conitributed many helpful suggestions. Professor S. M. Lind-
say has read the chapter on Social Legislation, and Pro-
fessor R. S. Woodworth of the Department of Psycholog'y,
that on Disaster Psychology. The author is under special
tribute to Professor H. R. Seager, and to Professor Tenney,
who most cheerfully sacrificed part O'f a summer vacation
to read and revise the manuscript and proof.
Without the walls of the Universiity there are also those
who have given aid. The author gratefully acknowledges
the assistance of Dr. Edward T. Devine of New York,
of Mr. C C. Carstenss, of Boston, of Mr. Thomas Mackay,
of Ottawa, and of Miss E. M. A. Vaughan, of the St. John
Public Library. He has enjoyed the cooperation of many
friends and fellow-townsmen of Halifax. He desires to
thank particularly. Miss L. F. Barnaby, of the Halifax:
Citizens' Library, Miss J. B. Wisdom, of the Halifax Wel-
fare Bureau, Rev. W. J. Patton of St. Paul's Church, Mr.
W. C. Milner, of the Public Archives of Canada, Mr. L.
Fred. Monaghan, Halifax City Clerk, Mr. G. K. Butler,
Supervisor of Halifax Schools, Mr. R. M. Hattie, Secretary
of the Halifax Town-Planning Coimmission, Dr. Franklin B.
Royer, Director of the Massachusetts^Halifax Health Comn
mission, Mr. E. A. Saunders, Secretary of the Halifax!
Board of Trade, Mr. E. H. Blois, Superintendent of
Neglected and Delinquent Children, and last of all and most
of all his friend of many years, Mr. A. J. Johnstone, editor
of the Dartmouth Independent.
S. H. P.
Columbia University, New York, October, 1920.
CONTENTS
Introduction
PAOK
The " catastrophe " in sociological literature 13
The " catastrophic view " r^. progress in evolution 14
Factors in social change IS
The stimuli factors 16
What crises mean 16
Communities and great vicissitudes 19
Causes of immobility 19
Catastrophe and progress 21
Historic cases suggested for study 23
CHAPTER I
Catastrophe and Social Disintegration
The City of Halifax 25
Terrific nature of the explosion 26
Destruction of life and property 26
The subsequent fire and storms 29
Annihilation of homes 31
Arresting of business 31
Disintegration of the social order 32
CHAPTER II
Catastrophe and Social Psychology
Shock reaction 36
Hallucination 37
Primitive instincts 39
Crowd psychology 41
Phenomena of emotion 44
How men react when bereft completely 47
Post-catastrophic phenomena 48
Human nature in the absence of repression by conventionality, cui-
tom and law . . 49
Fatigue and the human will 52
9] 9
10 CONTENTS [lO
AGE
The stimuli of heroism 55
Mutual aid 56
CHAPTER III
Catastrophe and Social Organization
The organization of relief 59
The disaster protocracy 60
The transition from chaos through leadership 61
Utility of association ... 62
Vital place of communication 62
Imitation 63
Social pressure 63
Consciousness of kind 63
Discussion 64
Circumstantial pressure 64
Climate 65
Geographic determinants 67
Classification of factors 67
CHAPTER IV
Catastrophe and Social Organization (Continued)
The reorganization of the civil social order 69
Division of labor 69
Resumption of normal activities 70
State and voluntary associations 71
Order of reestablishment ».....,. 71
Effects of environmental change 75
The play of imitation yy
The stimulus of lookers-on 78
Social conservation 79
CHAPTER V
Catastrophe and Social Economy
The contribution of social service 80
Its four-fold character 83
The principles of relief 85
Rehabilitation 86
Phases of application 87
Criticisms 92
A new principle 95
Social results 96
Summary for future guidance 97
Il] CONTENTS II
FAGR
CHAPTER VI
Catastrophe and Social Legislation
Governmental agencies in catastrophe 102
What seems to be expected of governments 103
What they actually do 103
Social legislation 104
A permanent contribution 109
CHAPTER VII
Catastrophe and Social Surplus
Mill's explanation of the rapidity with which communities recover
from disaster iii
The case of San Francisco iii
The case of Halifax 112
Social surplus 112
The equipmental factors 113
Correlation of tragedy in catastrophe with generosity of public re-
sponse 114
Catastrophe insurance 116
A practical step 117
CHAPTER VIII
Catastrophe and Social Change
The unchanging Halifax of the years 118
The causes of social immobility 119
The new birthday 122
The indications of change — appearance, expansion of business,
population, political action, city-planning, housing, health, edu-
cation, recreation, community spirit 123
Carsten's prophecy 140
CHAPTER IX
Conclusion
Recapitulation 141
The various steps in the study presented in propositional form . . 142
The role of catastrophe 145
Index 147
" This awful catastrophe is not the end but
the beginning. History does not end so. It is
the way its chapters open."— 5"*. Augustine,
INTRODUCTION
The " catastrophe " in sociological literature— The " catastrophic view '*
vs. progress in evolution — Factors in social change — The stimuli
factors-^What crises mean—Communities' and great vicissitudes —
Causes of immobility—- Catastrophe and progressr— Historic cases sug-
gested for study.
There are imany virgin fields in Sociology. This is one
of the attractions the subject has for the scientific mind.
But of all such fields none is more; interesting than the
factor of catastrophe in social change.
And strangely enough, if there are but few references to
the problem in all our rapidly-growing literature, it is not
because caitastrophies are few. Indeed at would seem that
with the advent of the industrial age, disasters grow more
frequent every year.^ Many are small, no doubt, touching
but the life of a village or a borough — ^a broken dyke, a^
bridge swept out by ice, a caved^in mline. Others again
write themselves on the pages of History — an Ohio flood,
an Omaha tornado, a Chicago fire, a San Francisco earth-
quake, a Halifax explosion. Each in its own way inscribes itsi
records of social change — some to be effaced in a twelve-
month— some to outlast a generation. Records they are,
for the most part unread. How to read them is the prob-
lem. And. it may be that when readers have grown: in
number and the script is better known, we shall be able to
1 " Within a score of years disasters . . . have cost thousands of lives,
have affected by personal injury, or destruction of property no fewer
than a million and a half persons and have laid waste property valued
at over a billion dollars . . . the expectation based on past experience
is that each year no less than half a dozen such catastrophies will occur."
(Deacon J. Byron, Disasters, N. Y., 1918, p. 7.) This quotation refers
to the United States alone.
13] 13
14 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [14
seize the momenit of catastrophe and ttniultiply immeasurably
its power for social good.
To define the term catastrophe is scarcely necessary. The)
dictionary calls catastrophe " an event producing a sub-
version of the order or systemi of things," and such as '' may
or may not be a cause of misery toi man." ^ It is desirable
however to limit the use of the termi, in primary investiga-
tions at least, to those disasters which affect communitiesi
rather than states or nations, for restricted areas are more
amenable to study. National cataclysims, such as war,
famine, and financial panic are too general in character, and
function on too grand a scale for satisfactory treatment,
at least until the ground is cleared. It is necessary also to
limit this investigation to those social changes which fol-
low upon catastrophies, ratlier than precede them'. For
there are social effects which result from living in anticipa-
tion of disaster, such as* are observable among communities
in volcanic areas. Interesting as a broad study might be,
it would be likely to lead the investigator too far afield into
the realm oi speculation. Nevertheless a general point of
view is necessary to give meaning to even a limited treat-
ment oif the theme. For this purpose there may be con-
trasted the catastrophic view of histoiry, as illustrated by
that of the Hebrew peoples, and the modern conception of
progress through evolution. The former looks upon his-
tory as a series of vicissitudes mercifully ending one day
in final cataclysm. The spirit of apocalyptic expectancy pre-
vails. Social conditions rest hopelessly static^» Faith is
pinned to a spiritual kingdom which can grow and can en-
dure. Against this has been set an optimistic evolution,
pictured like an escalade with resident forces lifting the
1 Catastrophies are those unforeseen events which the Wells-Fargo
express receipts used to call quaintly " Acts of God, Indians and other
pubUc enemies of the government."
I^] INTRODUCTION 15
world to better days. Progress becomes a smooth con-
tinuous growth. On the other hand the newer philosophy
sees in history not necessarily the operation of progressive
evolution but also of retrogressive evolution and cataclysm.^
There are great stretches of smooth and even current in
the stream, but always along the course are seen the rapid
and the water-fall, the eddy and reversing tide. The lat-
ter is the general subject of this dissertation, and its thesis
is the place of the water-fall. Only a very small, and
specialized treatment is attempted ; the great Niagaras must
be left to abler hands.
The conception of social change as used in this monograph
also needs definition. By social change is meant those rapid
mutations which accompany sudden interferences with the
equilibrium] of society, break up the status-quo^ dissipate
mental inertia and overturn other tendencies resistant to
structural modificaJtion. The various forces which initiate
such disturbances are factors in social change. These
factors may be intra-social, — within the group — such factors
as operate in the regular social process, imitation and adap-
tation, for example; or they may be extra-social, " stimuli "
factors — from without the group — such as, accidental, ex-
traneous or dramatic events. Of the latter conquest may
be one, or the sudden intrusion of a foreign element, or
rapid changes of environment.^
1 If nature abhors a vacuum, she also abhors stagnation. Is there not
reason behind all this action and reaction, these cycles and short-time
changes which her observers note? May it not well be that the ever-
swinging pendulum has a istir-up function to perform and that the
miniature daily catastrophies of life are the things which keep it
wholesome and sweet ?
" The old order changeth yielding place to the new.
And God fulfils Himself in many ways
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world."
— Tennyson, Alfred, The Passing of Arthur.
' Ross, Edward A, Foundations of Sociology (N. Y., 1905), ch. viii,
p. 189.
l6 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [i6
These stiddeni chang-es are fully worthy of careful study
by scientific method. However important the accumula-
tion of iimipulses toward social transformation may be, there
is often a single " precipitating factor " which acts as the
"igniting spark" or "the knocking away of the stay-
block," or " the turning of a lever." ^ It is among such
extra-social or " stimuli " factors that catastrophe falls
as a precipitating agent in social change.
The significance of crisis in social change likewise re-
quires attention, and it will be clarifying to our thought at
^ this point to distinguish carefully between crisis and
'i catastrophe, and to inquire what the nature of the former
I really is. The word " crisis " is of Greek origin, meaning
j a point of culmination and separation, an instant when
\ change one way or another is impending. Crises are those
\ critical moments which are, as we say, big with destiny.
I Battles have crisis-hours when the tide of victory turns.
Diseases have them — the seventh day in pneumonia, or the
fourteenth day in typhoid fever. Social institutions afford
numerous illusitrations, such as the eighth year of marriage.^
There are critical years of stress and strain — the ages
of fourteen and forty in life-histories, the latter being ac-
cording to Sir Robertson Nicoll the most dangerous hour
of existence. Other crises are " hours of insight " in the
world of thought, and hours of opportunity in the world of
action, — that " tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the
flood leads on to fortune," hours of doubt in religion " when^
all the. gods are dead." " Crisis," Professor Shailer Mat-
i thews observes, " is something more than a relative ternH.
I It describes a situation which is no ordinary member of ai
• line of antecedents and consequents, but one that assures}
\ radical change in the) imlmiediate future." He distinguishes
1 Ross, op. cit., p. 198.
2 Jeune, Sir Francis, a celebrated judge in divorce cases.
ly-j INTRODUCTION ly
between a crisis and a revolution. " The difference be-
tween a revolution and a crisis is the difference between
the fire and the moment when somieone with a lighted match
in hand pauses to decide whether a fire shall be lighted.'*
The term covers the situation, preceding change, whether
this situation be the culmination of a process or the result
of some particular stimiulus. " It is not necessarily pre-
cipitated by great issues. Quite as often it is occasioned
by events .... which are sc related to a new situation
as to set in motion an entire group of forces as a match
kindles a huge bonfire when once the fuel is laid." ^ The
failure to distinguish between that which occasions the
crisis and the crisis itsel'f has been the source of some con- i
fusion in thinking. "Defeat in battle, floods, drought,
pestilence and famine," are not strictly crises, but they
super-induce the crisisHsituation, as does anything which
brings about " a disturbance of habit," though it be simply
*' an incident, a stimiulation or a suggestion." In short,
crises are the result either of a slowly maturing process or of
sudden strain or shock; and the nature of the reactioni in
the crisis-hour is nothing imore than the effort towards the
reestablishment of habits, new or old, when the former
functioning has been disturbed. The situation, as has been
pointed out, is closely correlated with attention.
When the habits are running smoothly the attention is re-
laxed ; it is not at work. But when something happens to dis-
turb the run of habit, the attention is called into play, and de-
vises a new mode of behavior which will meet the crisis. That
is, the attention establishes new and adequate habits, or it is
its function so to do.^
^Mathews, Shailer, The Church in the Changing Order (N. Y., 1907),
ch. i, p. I.
* Thomas, William I., Source Book of Social Origins (Chicago, 1909),
Introduction, p. 17.
1 8 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [ig
What appears to take place is analogous to what is known as
the reconditioning of instincts in psycholog'y. Professor Gid-
dings has been the first to make the sociological application :
Folk-ways of every kind, including mores and themistes are
the most stable syntheses of pluralistic behavior; yet they are
not unchanging. Under new and widening experience they
suffer attrition and are modified. Instincts and with them
emotion and imagination which largely fills the vast realm
between instinct and reason are reconditioned. The word
means simply that reflexes and higher processes subjected to
new experiences are in a degree or entirely detached from old
stimuli and associated with new ones. From time to time also
traditions are invaded and habits are broken down by crisis.
Pluralistic behavior then is scrutinized, criticized, discussed.
It is rationally deliberated.^
Crises often, perhaps most often, precede catastrophies,
as when revolutions break. The alternate truth that the
catastrophies themselves are re-agents to generate the
crisis^situaition has not been so commonly noted. Never-
theless the disitiitegrationi of the riormjal by shock and
calamiiity is an increasingly familiar spectacle.
Heretofore it has been in the life-histories and careers of
individual men rather than in the case of commainities that
the observations have been recorded. Our biographies teem
with instances of personal crises precipitated by a great shock
or disappointment — Hawthorne's dismissal from the custom
house, Goldsmith's rejection from Civil Service, the refusal
of Dickens's application for the stage, the turning back of
Livingstone from China, the bankruptcy of Scott.
Now examination reveals that the one thing characteristic
of the crisis-period in the individual is a state of fluidity^
*Giddings, Franklin H., "Pluralistic Behaviour," American Journal
of Sociology, vol. xxv, no. 4 (Jan., 1920), p. 401.
'The phrases " The world in a v^relter," " nations in the melting pot,*'
" life in the smelting oven," are commonly heard and suggest a solution
stage prior to the hardening process, or antecedent to crystallization.
ip] INTRODUCTION 19
into which the individual is thrown. Life becomes like
molten metal. It enters a state of flux ^ from which it
must reset upon a principle, a creed, or purpose. It is
shaken perhaps violently out of rut and routine. Old cus-
toms crumible, and instability rules. There is generated a
state of potentiality for reverse directions. The subject
may " fall down " or he may " fall up." The presence of
dynamic forces in such a state means change. But the
precise role of the individual mind in a period of crisis is
a problem not for sociology but for psychology.
The principle that fluidity is fundamental to social
change is also true, however, of the community. Fluidity
is not the usual state of society.
Most of the " functions " of society have no tendency to dis-
turb the status quo. The round of love, marriage and repro-
duction, so long as births and death balance, production so far
as it is balanced by consumption, exchange so long as the
argosies of commerce carry goods and not ideas, education so
far as it passes on the traditional culture, these together with
recreation, social intercourse, worship, social control, govern-
ment and the administration of justice are essentially statical.
They might conceivably go on forever without producing
change.^
Indeed the usual condition of the body politic is im- l
mobility, conservatism and "determined resistance to [\
change." The chief reason for this immobility is habit:*
* Following the French Revolution Wordsworth wrote :
I lost
All feeling of conviction and in fine
Sick, wearied out with contrarieties
Yielded up moral questions in despair.
— Prelude, bk. xi.
•Ross, op. cit., p. 200.
•To this cause of immobility may be added others, such as: (i)
Narrow experience and few interests. (2) Large percentage of popu-
lation owning property. (3) Oriental pride in permanence. (4)
Fatalistic philosophies. (5) Over- emphasis of government.
y^j
20 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [20
When our habits are settled and running smcx>thly they most
resemble the instincts of animals. And the great part of our
life is lived in the region of habit. The habits like the in-
stincts are safe and serviceable. They have been tried and are
associated with a feeling of security. There consequently
grows up in the folk mind a determined resistance to change
... a state of rapid and constant change implies loss of
settled habits and disorganization. As a result, all societies
view change with suspicion, and the attempt to revise certain
habits is even viewed as immorality. Now it is possible under
such conditions for a society to become stationary or to attempt
to remain so. The effort of attention is to preserve the present
status, rather than to re-accommodate. This condition is par-
ticularly marked among savages. In the absence of science
and a proper estimate of the value of change they rely on
ritual and magic and a minute unquestioning adhesion to the
past. Change is consequently introduced with a maximum of
resistance . . . Indeed the only world in which change is at a
premium and is systematically sought is the modern scientific
world. ^
But when there comes the shattering of the matrix of
custom by catastrophe, then imores are broken up and scat-
tered right and left. Fluidity is accomplished at a stroke.
There comes a sudden chance for permanent social change.
Social changes follow both minor and major disasters.
The destruction of a mill may change the economic outlook
of a village. The loss of a bridge may result in an entirely
different school system for an isolafted community ; a cloud-
burst may move a town. Great visitations, like the Chicago
fire or the San Francisco earthquake, reveal these social
pi'ocesses in larger and more legible scale. Take as a
single instance the latter city. Its quick recovery has been
called one of the wonders of the age. In the very midst of
surrounding desolation and business extinction, the Cali-
1 Thomas, op. cit., pp. 20, 21.
2i] INJRODUCTION 21
formiati city projected a Panama-Pacific exposition, and its
citizens proceeded to arrange for one O'f the greatest of all
world fairs. On the other hand, the social changes which
succeed relatively small disturbances are often such as to
elude an estimate. The reason has been well suggested
that " big crises bring changes abouit most easily because
they affect all individuals alike at the same time." In other
words a more general fluidiiy is accomplished. We see,
therefore, a second principle begin to emerge. Not only
is fluidity fundamental to social change, but the degree of
fluidity seems to vary directly as the shock and extent of the
catastrophe.
There yet remains to notice the bearing of catastrophe
upon! social progress. The following words are quotable
in this connection :
It is quite certain that the degree of progress of a people
has a certain relation to the number of disturbances encoun-
tered, and the most progressive have had a more vicissitudinous
life. Our proverb " Necessity is the mother of invention " is
the formulation in folk-thought of this principle of social
change.^
We cannot, however, remain long content with this sugges-
tion as to the principle concerned — namely, that progress
is a natural and an assured result of change. The point is
that catastrophe always means social change. There is not
always progress. It is well to guard against confusion here.
Change means any qualitative variation, whereas^ progress
means " amelioration, perfeotionment." The latter will
be seen to depend on other things — ^the nature of the shock,
the models presented, the community culture and morale,
the Sitiimulus of leaders and lookers-on. The single case of
Galveston, Texas,^ is sufficient to disprove the too optimistic
* Thomas, op. cit., p. i8.
""It has one of the finest, if not the finest, ports in North America.
22 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [22
hypothesis that the effects of catasitrophies are uniform.
Here a city lost heart by reason of the overwhelming flood,
and in spite of superior commercial advantages was out-
grown by a rival fifty miles away. At the same time the
case of Dayton, Ohio, should be borne in imiind. Here also
was a flood-stricken city and she became " the Gem City of
the West." The principle^ thus appears to be that progress
in catastrophe is a resultant of specific conditioning factors,
some of which are subject to social control.
It is indeed this very thing which makes possible the hope
of eventual social control over disaster-stricken cities, and
the transmutation of seeming evil into tremendous good.
And this is in addition to the many practical social lessons
which we have already been intelligent enough to preserve,
such as those O'f better city-planning, and a miore efficient
charity organization.
How much of man's advancement has been directly or
indirectly due to disaster?^ The question asks itself and
it is a question as yet without an answer. When the answer
is at last written, will there not be many surprises? Pitt-
Rivers tells us that " the idea of a large boat might have
been suggested in the time of floods when houses floated
down the rivers before the eyes of men." ^ A terrible
In 1900 a great tidal wave swept over the city, causing enormou& damage
and loss of life. While the city has had a certain growth since that
time, it has been far outstripped by •Houston, Dallas, and other Texas
cities." — ^Kirby Page, formerly of Texas, in a letter to the author.
^Another principle is suggested for study by the following sentence
in Ross' Foundations of Sociology (p. 206) " Brusk revolution in the
conditions of life or thought produces not sudden, but gradual changes
in society." This might easily be elaborated.
'The relationship of poetry and disaster is of interest. In a recent
article on Disaster and Poetry a writer asks "whether often, if not
always, suffering, disease and disaster do not bring to him [the poet]
the will to create." — Marks, Jeanette, "Disaster and Poetry," North
American Review, vol. 212, no. i (July, 1920), p. 93.
8 Thomas, op. cit., p. 23.
23] INTRODUCTION 23
Storm at sea gave America its first rice.^ City-planning may
be said to have taken its rise in America as a result of the
Chicago fire, and the role of catastrophe in the progress of
social legislation is a study in itself. The impetus thus
received is immeasurable. Historically, labor-legislation
took its rise with the coming of an infectious fever in the
cotton-mills of Manchester in 1784. After the Cherry mine
disasiter legislation ensued at once. Again it was the
Triangle fire which led to the appropriation of funds for
a factory investigation commission in the Sta^te of New
York. The sinking of the Titanic has greatly reduced the
hazards of the sea.
It may easily prove true that ithe prophets of golden days
to come who invariably arise on the day of disaster, are not
entirely without ground for the faith which is in them; and
that catastrophies are frequently only re-agents of further^
progress. But this is merely introductory. Thought be-
comes scientific only when its conclusions are checked up
and under-written by observation or experiimlent. Prior to
such procedure it must still remain opinion or belief.
The whole subject is, it must be repeated, a virgin field
in sociology. Knowledge will grow scientific only after
the most faithful examination of many catastrophies. But^
it must be realized that the data of the greatest value is left
ofttimies unrecorded, and fades rapidly froiml the social
memory. Investigation is needed immediately after the
event. It is, therefore, of the utmost importance thatl
sociological studies of Chicago, Galveston, Baltimlore, San
Francisco, and other disaster cities should be initiated at once.^'
*In this storm a ship from Madagascar was driven into a South
Carolina port. In gratitude the Captain gave the Governor a sack of
seed.
' It is perhaps due to the reader to say that while this volume treats
specifically of Halifax, the writer has studied the records of many
24 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [24
Of such a series — if the.Avork can be done — ^this little
volume on Halifax is offered as a beginning. It is hoped that
the many inadequacies of treatment will receive the generous
allowances permitted a pioneer.
disasters and these have been kept in mind in drawing his conclusions.
He participated in the rescue and relief work at Halifax in 191 7, and
at the time of the Titanic disaster accompanied one of the expeditions
to the scene. He was in New York when the Wall Street explosion
occurred, and made a first hand study of its effects.
CHAPTER I
Catastrophe and Social Disintegration
The City of Halifax—Terrific nature of the explosion— Destruction of
life and property — The subsequent fire and storms — Annihilation of
homes — Arresting of business — Disintegration of the social order.
'Halifax is the ocean termiinal of the Dominion of
Canada on her Atlantic seaboard. It is situated at the head
of Chebucto Bay a deep inlet on the southeastern shoreline
of Nova Scotia. It is endowed by nature with a magnifi-
cent harbor, which as a matter of fact is one of the three
finest in the world. In it a thousand vessels might safely
ride at anchor. The possession of this harbor, together
with ample defences, and a fortunate situation with regard
to northern Europe established the Garrison City, early in
the year 19 14 as the natural war-base of the Dominion.
Its tonnage leaped by mlillions, and it soon became the third
shipping port in the entire British Empire. Hither the
transports came, and the giant freighters to join their con-
voy. Cruisers and men-of-war put in to use itS' great dry-
dock, or take on coal. Here too, cleared the supply and muni-
tion boats^ — some laden with empty shells, others with high ex-
plosives destined for the distant fields of battle. How much
of the deadly cargO' lay in the road-stead or came and went
during those fateful years is not publicly known.^ Cer-
tainly there was too much to breed a sense of safety, but no
1 During the month of December, 191 5, alone, 30,000 tons of munitions
passed over the railroad piers of Halifax.
25] 25
26 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [26
one gave the matter second thought. All were intent upon^
the mighty task of the hour. Sufficient untO' each day was
each day's evil. Each night the great war-gates were swung
across the channels. Powerful searchlights swept unceas-
ingly the sea and sky. The forts were fully manned. The
gunners ready. The people knew these things, and no one
dreamed of danger save to loved ones far away. Secure in
her own defences the city lay unafraid, and almost apathetic.
About midway in the last two years of war — to be ex-
act December, 19 17, — a French munitioner^ heavily laden
with trinitrotoluol, the most powerful of known explosives,
reached Halifax fromi New York. On the early morning
of the sixth of that month, she was proceeding under her
own steam up the harbor-length toward anchorage in the
basin — ^^an oval expansion half -hidden by a blunt hill called
Turple Head. Suddenly an empty Belgian relief ship^
swept through the Narrows directly in her pathway. There
was a confusion of signals; a few agonized manoeuvers.
The vessels collided ; and the shock of their colliding shook
the world!
'*War-*came to America that morning. Two thousand
slain, six thousand injured, ten thousand homeless, thirty-
five millions of dollars in property destroyed, three hundred
acres left a smoking waste, churches, schools, factories
blown down or burned — such was the appalling havoc of the
1 The Mont Blanc, St. Nazaire, Captain Lemedec, Pilot Francis
Mackay, owners La Compagnie General Transatlantique 3,121 tons
gross, 2252 net register, steel, single screw, 330 ft. long, 40 ft. beam,
speed 7}^ to 8 knots, inward bound, from New York to await convoy.
Cargo 450,000 lbs. trinitrotoluol, 2300 tons picric acid, 35 tons benzol, em-
ployed in carrying munitions to France.
•The Into, Christiania, Captain Fron, Pilot William Hayes, owners
Southern Pacific Whaling Company, 5,041 tons gross, 3 161 tons register,
steel, single screw, 430 ft. long, 45 ft. beam, speed 11 to 12 knots, outward
bound to New York, in ballast, employed in carrying food to Belgium.
27] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL DISINTEGRATION 27
greatest single explosion in the history of the world.^ It
was an episode which baffles description. It is difficult to
gain from words even an approximate idea of the catastro-
phe and what followed in its trail.
It w'as all of a sudden — a single devastating blast; then
the sound as of the crashing of a thousand chandeliers.
Men and women cowered under the shower of debris and
glass. There was one awful mioment when hearts sank,
and breaths were held. Then women cried aloud, and mien
looked dumbly into each other's eyes, and awaited the crack
of doom. To some death was quick and merciful in its
coming. Others were blinded, and staggered to an fro
before they dropped. Still others) with shattered limbs drag-
ged themselves forth into the light — naked, blackened, un-
recognizable human shapes. They lay prone upon the
srt:reetside, under the shadow of the great death-cloud which
sitill dropped soot and oil and water. It was truly a sight
to make the angels weep.
Men who had been at the front said they had seen
nothing so bad in Flanders. Over there men were torn with
shrapnel, but thie victiimis were in all cases men. Here
father and mother, daughter and little child, all fell in
**one red burial blent." A returned soldier said of it: "I
have been in the trenches in France. I have gone over the
top. Friends and comrades have been shot in my presence.
I have seen scores of dead men lying upon the battlefield,
but the sight .... was a thousand times worse and far
more pathetic." ^ A well-known relief worker who had
been at San Francisco, Chelsea and Salem immedialtely after
those disasters said " I am( impressed by the fact that this is
much the saddest disaster I have seen." It has been comi-
*The greatest previous explosion was when 500,000 pounds of
dynamite blew up in Baltimore Harbor.
2 Johnstone, Dwight, The Tragedy of Halifax (in MS.).
28 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [28
pared to the scenes pictured by Lord Lytton in his tale of
the last days of Pompeii:
True there was not that hellish river of molten lava flowing
down upon the fleeing people ; and consuming them as feathers
in fierce flames. But every other sickening detail was present
— ^that of crashing shock and shaking earth, of crumbling
homes, and cruel flame and fire. And there were showers, not
it is true of ashes from the vortex of the volcano, but of soot
and oil and water, of death-dealing fragments of shrapnel and
deck and boiler, of glass and wood and of the shattered ship.^
Like the New Albany tornado, it caused losis " in all five
of the ways it is possible for a disaster to do so, in death,
permanent injury, temporary injury, personal property loss,
and real property loss." ^ Here were to be found in one
dread assembling the combined horrors of war, earthquake,
fire, flood, famine and storm — a. combination sq&[i for the
first time in the records of human disaster.
It was an earthquake ^ so violent that when the explosion
occurred the old, rock-founded city shook as with palsy.
The citadel trembled, the whole horizon seemed to move
with the passing of the earth waves. These were caught
and registered, itheir tracings* carefully preserved, but the
mute record tells not of the falling roofs and flying plaster
and collapsing walls which to many an unfortunate victim
brought death and burial at one and the same time.
It was a flood, for the sea rushed forward in a gigantic
*McGlashen, Rev. J. A., The Patriot (Dartmouth, 'N. S.).
'Deacon, J. Byron, Disasters (N. Y., 1918), ch. ii, p. 158.
" The effect of the vast, .sudden interference with the air was prac-
tically the same as if an earthquake had shaken Halifax to the ground."
(MacMechan, Archibald, "Halifax in Ruins," The Canadian Courier,
vol. xxiii, no. 4, p. 6.)
'The tracings on the seismograph show three distinct shocks at the
hours 9.05, 9.10 and 10.05.
29] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL DISINTEGRATION 29
tidal wave, fully a fathom in depth. It swept past pier and
embankment into the lower streets, and receding, left boats
and wreckage high and dry, but carried to a watery doom
score upon score of human lives. Nearly two hundred men
were drowned.
It was a fire or rather a riot of fires, for the air was for
a second filled with tongues of igneous vapour hiding them-
selves secretly within the lightning discharge of gas, only
to burst out in gusts of sudden flame. Numberless build-
ings were presen'tly ablaze. Soon there was naught to the
northward but a roaring furnace. Above, the sky wasi
crimson; belowl, a living crematorium — church and school,
factory and home burned together in one fierce conflagra-
tion ; and the brave firemen knew that there were men and
women pinned beneath the wreckage, wounded past self-
help. Frantic mothers heard the cries of little children, but
in vain. Fathers desperately tore through burning brands,
but often failed to save alive the captives of the flame. And
so the last dread process went on, — earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dusit to dust. And when the fires at last abated, the
north end of the City of Halifax looked like some black-
ened hillside which a farmer had burned .for fallow in the
spring.
Bu/t perhaps the most terrible oif all the terrible accomp-
animents was the tornado-like gas-blast from the bursting
ship. It wrought instant havoc everywhere. Trees were
torn from the ground. Poles were snapped like toothpicks.
Trains were stopped dead. Cars were left in twisted mas-
ses. Pedestrians were thrown- violently into the air, houses
collapsed on all sides. Steamers were slammed against the
docks. Then followed a veritable air-raid, when the sky
rained iron fragments upon the helpless city. Like a meteoric
shower of death, they fell piercing a thousand roofs, and
with many a mighty splash bore down into the sea.
30 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [30
Nor yet did ithis complete the tale of woes O'f this Die^
Irae. Scarce was the catastrophe an hour old when the
news was. flashed around that a second explosion was ap-
proaching. It was the powder magazine in the Navy-yard,
and the flames were perilously near. Through the
crowded streets raced the heralds like prophets of wrath to
come. "Flee! .... Flee! .... Get into the open
ground " was the cry. Shops were abandoned unguarded,
goods laid open on every side. No key was turned, no till
was closed, but all instanter joined the precipitant throng,
driven like animals before a prairie fire — yet this was not all ;
for " the plight of the aged, the sick, the infants, the bed-
ridden, the cripples, the nursing mothers, the pregnant can
not be described."
It was like the flight from Vesuvius of which Pliny the
Younger tells:
You could hear the shrieks of women, the crying of children
and the shouts of men. Some were seeking their children;
others their parents, others their wives and husbands . . . one
lamenting his own fate, another that of his family. Some
praying to die from the very fear of dying, many lifting their
hands to the gods, but the greater part imagining that there
were no gods left anywhere, and that the last and eternal night
was come upon the world. ^
It has been said that " Moscow was no rrtore deserted before
Napoleon than were the shattered streets of Halifax when
this flight had been carried out." ^ And whe5:i the hegira;
was over, and when Ithere had ensued a partial recovery
from the blow and gloom, a still lower depth of agony had
yet to be undergone — a succession of winter stormis. Bliz-
zards, rain, floods and zero weather were even then upotn
* Pliny, Letters (London, 1915). voL i, bk. vi, p. 495.
"Smith, Stanley K, The Halifax Horror (Halifax, 1918), ch. ii, p. 24.
3i] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL DISINTEGRATION 31
the way. They came in close procession and as if tO' crown
and complete the terrors of the great catastrophe thunder
rvimbled, lightning broke sharply and lit up weirdly the
snow-clad streets. Such was the catastrophe of Halifax — -
" a calamiity the appalling nature of which stirred the im-
agination of the world." ^
The description here concluded, brief and inadequate
as it is, will sufficienitly indicate the terrific nature of the
catastrophic shock, and explain how utter and complete was
the social disintegration which followed.
There was the disintegration of the home and the family,
— )the reproductive system of society — i^ts miembers sund-
ered and helpless to avert it. There was the disintegration
of the regulative system — government was in perplexity,
and streets were without patrol. There was the disintegra-
tion of the sustaining system — ^a dislocation of transporta-
tion, a disorganization of business while the wheels of in-
dustry ceased in their turning. There was a derangemient
of the distributive system^ — of all the usual services, of il-
lumination, water-connections, telephones, deliveries. It was
impossible to conimunicate with the outside world. There
were no cars, no mails, no wires. There was a time when
the city ceased to be a city, its citizens a mass of unorganized
units — struggling for safety, shelter, covering and bread.
As Lytton wrote of Pompeii ; " The whole eldmients of
civilization were broken up ... . nothing in all the varied
and complicated machinery of social life was left save the
primal law of self preservation."^
A writer has given a vivid word picture of the social con'-
'Bell, McKelvie, A Romance of the Halifax Disaster (Halifax, 1918),
p. 57.
'Spencer, Herbert, The Principles of Sociology (N. Y., 1906), pt. ii,
p. 499 et seq.
•Lytton, Lord, The Last Days of Pompeii (London, 1896), p. 405.
32 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [32
trasts of the disiaster night and the beautiful evening be-
fore.
What a change from the night before ! No theatres open, no
happy throngs along the street, no cheery gatherings around the
fire-side. The houses were all cold, and dark and silent. In-
stead of laughter, weeping; instead of dancing, agonizing
pain; instead of Elysian dreams, ominous nightmares. Fears
and sorrow were in the way and all the daughters of music
were brought low . . . Halifax had become in a trice a city
of dead bodies, ruined homes and blasted hopes.^
To have looked in upon one of the great miakeshift dormi-
tories that first night, to have seen men, women and chill-
ren, of all stations, huddled together on the stages of theatres,
the chancels of churches, in stables, box-cars and basements
was to have beheld a rift itt the social structure such as no
community had ever known. Old traditional social lines
were hopelessly mixed and confused. The catastrophe
smashed through stro^ng walls like cobwebs, but it also
smashed through fixed traditions, social divisions and old
standards, making a rent which would not easily repair.
Rich and poor, debutante and chamibermaid, official and bell-
boy met for the first time as victimis of a common calamity.
Even on the eighth, two days after the disaster, when
Mr. Ratshesky of the Massachusetts' Relief arrived he
could report : " An awful sight presented itself, buildings
shattered on all sides — chaos apparent." In a room m
the City Hall twelve by twenty, he found assembled " men
and women trying to organize diflFerent departments of re-
lief, while other rooms were filled to utmost capacity with
people pleading for doctors, nurses, food, and clothing for
themselves and members of their families. Everything was
in turmoil."^ This account faithfully expresses the dis-
* Johnstone, op. cit,
2 Ratshesky, A. C, "Report of Halifax Relief Expedition," The
State (Boston, 1918), p. n.
33] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL DISINTEGRATION 33
integration which came with the great shock of what had
come to pass. It is this disintegration and the resultant
phenomena which are of utanost importance for the student
of social science to observe. To be quite emotionally free in
the observation of such phenomena, however, is almost im-
possible. It has been said of sociological investigations that
observation is made under bias because the facts under review
are those of human life and touch human interest. A man can
count the legs of a fly without having his heart wrung because
he thinks there are too many or too few. But when he observes
the life of the society in which he moves, lives and has his being,
or some other society nearby, it is the rule that he approves or
disapproves, is edified or horrified, by what he observes. When
he does that he passes a moral judgment.^
Sociolo'gy has suffered because of this inevitable bias. In
our present study it is natural that our sympathy reactions
should be especially strong. " Quamquwm ammus mem-
inisse horret, incipiam " must be our motto. As students
we must now endeavor to dissociate ourselves from them,
and look upon the stricken Canadian city with all a cheimjist's
patient detachment. In a field of science where the prospect
of large-scale experimental progress is remote, we must
learn well when the abnormal reveals itself in great tragedies
and when social processes are seen magnified by a thousand
diameters. Only thus can we hope for advances that will
endure.
In this spirit then let us watch the slow process of the
reorganization of Halifax, and see in it a picture of society
itself as it reacts under the stimulus of catastrophe, and
adjusts itself to the circtunstantial pressure O'f new condi-
tions.
1 Keller, A. G., " Sociology and Science," The Nation (N. Y., May 4,
1916), vol. 102, no. 2653, p. 275.
34 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [34
Before doing so, however, we shall pause, in the next
chapter, to glance at a number of social phenomenai which
should be recorded and examined in the light of social
psychology. But we must not lose the relationship of each
chapter to our major thesis. It is sufficient for our purpose
if thus far it has been shown that at Halifax the shock re-
sulted in disintegration of social institutions, dislocation of
the usual methods of social control and dissolution of the
customary; that through the catastrophe the community
was thrown into the state of flux which, as was suggested
in the introduction, is the logical and natural prerequisite
for social change; and finally that the shock was of a
character such as " to affect all individuals alike at the sanue
time," and to induce that degree of fluidity mkDst favorable
to social change.
CHAPTER II
Catastrophe and Social Psychology
Shock reaction — Hallucination — Primitive instincts — Crowd psychology
—Phenomena of emotion — How men react when bereft completely —
Post-catastrophic phenomena — Human nature in the absence of re-
pression by conventionality, custom and law — Fatigue and the human
will — The stimuli of heroism^ — Mutual aid.
Social Psychology is a subject of primary importance
to the student of society. Like Sociology itself its field
is far from being exhausted. One looks in vain for a treat-
ment of disaster psychology. In such a study the diverse
phenomena involved would be of interest to the psychologist.
Their effects in retarding or promoting social organization
would concern the sociologist. With such possible effects
in mind we are now to proceed to an examination of the
major subjective reactions as they were to be seen in the
Halifax catastrophe.
It is improbable that any single community has ever
presented so composite a picture of human traits in such
bold relief as appeared in the City of Halifax upon the day
of the explosion. Human phenomena which many knew
of only as hidden away in books, stood out so clearly that
he who ran might read. Besides the physiological reac-
tions there was abundant illustration of hallucination, de-
lusio^i, primitive instincts, and crowd psychology as well of
other phenomena all of which have important sociological
significance tending either to prolong disintegration, or to
hasten social recovery.
35] 35
36 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [36
The first of these phenomiena was the "stun," of the
catastrophe itself. The shock reaction at Halifax has been
variously described. It has been graphically likened " to
being suddenly stricken with blindness and paralysis." It
was a sensation of utter helplessness and disability. " We
died a thousand horrible deaths " ran one description, " the
nervous shock and terror were as hard to bear as were the
wounds." " The people are dazed," wrdte another ob-
server, " they have almost ceased to exercise the sensation
of pain." This physiological reaction animals and men
shared alike. The appearance of the terror-stricken horses
was as O'f beasts which had suddenly gone mad.
A physiological accompaniment of shock and distraction
is the abnormal action of the glands. The dislturbance of
the sympathetic nervous systemi produced by the emotional
stress and strain of a great excitement or a great disap-
pointment is reflected in the stimulation or inhibition of
glandular action. Much physical as well as nervous illness
was precipitated by the grief, excitement and exposure of
the disaster.^ Among cases observed were those of diabetes,
tuberculosis and hyper-thyroidism, as well as the nervous
instability to which reference is subsequently made. Such
an epidemic of hyper-thyroidism! — exaggerated action' of
the thyroid gland — is said toi have followed the Kishineff
massacres, the San Francisco earthquake and the air-raids
on London.^ As to diabetes, it has been shown that
emotions cause increased output of glycogen. Glycogen is a
step toward diabetes and therefore this disease is prone to ap-
pear in persons under emotional strain ... so common is this
1 Far a full discussion of nervous disorders induced by an explosion
at short range, vide Roussy and Llermette, The Psychoneuroses of War
(London, 1918), ch. x.
2 Brown, W. Langden, Presidential address to Hunterian Society,
London.
37] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 37
particular result in persons under prolonged emotion that some-
one has said that " when stocks go down in New York, diabetes
goes up." ^
Turning now to other psychological aspects, we have
to note the presence of hallucination in disaster.
Hallucination may be roughly defined as false sense im-
pression. For example, the patient sees an object which has
no real existence, or hears an imaginary voice. Hallucinations
are termed visual, auditory, tactile, etc. according to the sense to
which the false impression appears to belong.^
Hallucination is induced by the unusual suggesting the ex-
pected. It is sense-perception colored by association. It
is the power of a domittant idea that, unbidden, enters the
field of consciousness and takes possession of even the
senses themselves. In Halifax one idea seemied to dominate
most minds and clothe itself in the semblance of reality —
the expected Germans. For a long time there had been
under public discussion the question as to whether or not
the city would be shelled by Zeppelin raiders, or possibly by
a fleet at sea. All street-lights had been darkened by
military orders. The failure to draw window shades had
been subject to heavy penalty. It is no wonder eyes looked
upward when there caime the crash, and when seeing the
strange unusual cloud beheld the Zeppelin of fancy. A
man residing on the outskirts of the town of Dartmouth
" heard " a German shell pass shrieking above him. Dart-
mouth Heights looks out over Halifax harbor, and here
perhaps the vista is most expansive, and the eye sees furthest.
The instant after the explo'sioni a citizen standing here
*Cril€, George W., The Origin and Nature of the Emotions (Phila.,
191S), p. 163.
'Hart, Bernard, The Psychology of Insanity (Cambridge, 1916),
ch. iii, p. 30.
38 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [38
" saw " clearly a German fleet manoeuvering in the dis-
tance/ That shells had actually come few on the instant
doubted. The head of one firm advised his employees not
to run elsewhere, as " two shots never fall in the same place."
This — du German assault — was the great mental explana-
tion that came into the majority of minds. There was one
other — that of the end of the world. Many fell to their
knees in prayer. One woman was found in the open yard
by her broken home repeating the general confession of the
church. Few would have been surprised if out of the
smoky cloud-ridden skies there should have appeared the
archangels announcing the consummation of mundane af-
fairs. Indeed there were instances, not a few, of those
who "saw" in the death-cloud "the clear outlines of a
face." Thus both auditory and visual hallucination were
manifested to a degree.
Hallucination has been described as " seeing " something
which has no basis in reality. Thus it differs fromi delusion,
which is rather a misinterpretation of what is seen. " De-
lusions are closely allied to hallucinations and generally ac-
company the latter. The distinction lies> in the fact that
delusions are not false sensations but false beliefs."^
Anxiety, distraction by grief and loss, as well as nervous
shock play freely with the mind and fancy and often swerve
the judgment of perception. This was especially noticeable
at Halifax in the hospital identification, particularly of
children. A distracted father looked into a little girl's
face four different times but did not recognize her as his
own which, in fact, she was. The precisely opposite oc-
^ "So hypochrondriac fancies represent
Ships, armies, battles in the firmament
Till steady eyes the exhalations solve
And all to its first matter, cloud, resolve."
— Defoe, Journal of the Plague Year.
^Hart, op. cit., ch. iii, p. 31.
39] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 39
currence was also noted. A fond parent time and timie
again " discovered " his lost child, " seeing " to complete
satisfaction special marks and features on its little body.
But often there were present those who knew better, and
the better judgment prevailed. Again this phenomenon
was repeated in numberless instances at the morgue.
Wearied and white after frantic and fruitless search where-
ever refugees were gathered together, the overwrought
•searchers would walk through the long lines of dead, and
suddenly " recognize " a missing relative or friend.^ Re-
gretfully the attendant fulfilled the same thankless task
from day to day. There had been no recognition at all.
The observer had seen " not the object itself but the image
evoked in the mind." ^
The primitive instincts of man were for a long time
vaguely and loosely defined, until James and later Mc-
Dougall essayed to give them name and number. But only
with Thorndike's critical examinaJtion has it become clear
how difficult a thing it is to carry the analysis oi any situa-
tion back to the elemental or " primal movers of all human-
activity." Thorndike is satisfied to describe them as noth-
ing save a s^ of original tendencies to respond to stimuli
in more or less definite directions. When' he speaks of
instincts it is to mean only a " series of situations and re-
sponses " or " a set of tendencies for various situations to
arouse the feelings of fear, anger, pity, etc. with which
certain bodily movements usually go." Among them there
are those resulting in " food-getting and habitation," in
*•' fear, fighting and anger " and in " human intercourse." *
But McDougall's classification preserves the old phrases,
^ For parallel cases of erroneous recognition of the dead, vide Le Bon,
Oustave, The Crowd, a Study of the Popular Mind (London), bk. i,
ch. i, p. SI.
2 Ibid., p. 51.
» Thorndike, Edward L., The Original Nature of Man (N. Y., I9I3)»
ch. V, p. 43 et seq.
40 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [40
and men are likely to go on speaking of the " instinct of
flight," the "instinct of pugnacity," "parcntal instinct."
"gregarious instinct" and the others/ For the sociologist
it is enough that all agree that men are held under sorn^j
powerful grip of nature and driven at times almost inevit-
ably to the dodng of acts quite irrespective of their social
effects.
In catastrophe these primitive institicts are seen most
plainly and less subject to the re-conditioning influences
jof ordinary life. This was especially noticeable at Hali-
fax. The instinct of flight for self-preservation was
reflected in the reaction' O'f thousands. " Almost without
thought, probably from the natural instinct of self-preserva-
tion I backed from the window to a small store-room and
stood there dazed." ^ The experience so^ described may bef
said to have been general. This instinct was to be seen
again in the action of the crew of the explosives-laden ship.
Scarcely had the collision occurred when the whole comi-
plement lowered away the boats, rowed like madmen to the
nearest shore — ^which happened ^o be that opposite to Hali-
fax— and " scooted for the woods." As the ship, although
set on fire ilmmediately after the impact, did not actually
blow up until some twenty minutes later, much might have
been done by men less under the dominajtiioni of instinct, in
the way of warning and perhaps of minimizing the inevi-
table catastrophe.^
The instinct of pugnacity was to be seen in many a fine
example of difficulty overcome in the work of rescue; as
*MoDougall, William, An Introduction to Social Psychology (Boston,
1917), ch. iii, p. 49 et seq.
2, Sheldon, J., The Busy East (Sackville, N. B. Can.), March, 1918.
3 The judgment of the court of enquiry ran as follows : " The master
and pilot of the Mont Blanc are guilty of neglect of pubHc safety in
not taking proper steps to warn the inhabitants of the city of a probable
explosion." (Drysdale Commission, Judgment of, sec. viii.)
41 ] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 41
also in other instances, some suggestive of that early com-
bat when ammals and men struggled for mere physical
existence.
The parental insjtinct was everywhere in evidence, and,
was reflected not only in the sacrifices made and the priva*-
tions endured by parents for their young, but in every act
of relief, which arose in involuntary response to the cry
oif the distressed. It perhaps partially explains the phenol
menon ofteni noticed in disasters 'that " immediately and
spontaneously neighbors and felloiWHto.'wnsmen spring toi
the work of rescue and first aid." ^
The gregarious instinct — the instinct to herd — ^showed
itself in the spontaneous groupings which came about and
which seemed somehow to be associated with feelings of
security from further harm. The refugees found comfort
in the group. They rarely remained alone. ^
These and other instinotive responses in a greater or lessi
degree of complication were to be remlarked of the actions!
not only of individuals but of groups as well. In the latter
the typical phenomena of crowd psychology were mani^
fested upon every hand. The crowd was seen to be what
it is — " the like response of miany to a socially inciting event
or suggestion such as sudden danger." Out of a mere
agglomeration of individuals and under the stress of emo-
tional excitement there arose thajt mental unity, which Le
Bon emphasizes.^ There was noticeable the feeling of )
safety associated with togetherness which Trotter suggests,* /
There was the suggestibility, with its preceding conditions"
which Sidis* has clarified, namely, expectancy, inhibition,
* Deacon, J. Byron, Disasters (N. Y., 1918), ch. vi, p. 151.
'Le Bon, op. cit., p. 26.
•Trotter, William, Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War (London,
1919), p. 31.
*Sidis, Boris, The Psychology of Suggestion (N. Y., 1919), ch. vi,
p. 56 ^^ seq.
42 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [42
and limitation of the field of consciousness. There were
the triple characteristics which Giddings notes : " Crowds
are subject to swift contagion of feeling, they are setisitivei
to suggestion .... and always manifest a tendency to(
carry suggested ideas immediately into action." ^
Of illustrations of impulsive social action there are nonei
more apt than those furnished by the reactions following
the Halifax tragedy. Only Pliny's narra,tive of the flight
from the eruption of Vesuvius, or the story of the " Day of
Fear " in France,^ or that depicting the days of the comet ^
are comparable thereto.
At first all was confusion. Some ran tO' the cellars.
Some ran to the streets. Sqm'e ran to their shops. Those in
the shops ran home. This was in the area of wounds and
bruises. Farther north was the area of death. Thither
the rescuers turned. Automobiles sped over broken glass
and splintered boards toward the unknown. Then came
the orders of the soldiers, whose barracks were situated
in the very heart of the danger district, for the people to
fly southward. Common-ward, to the open spaces — any-
where. Another explosion was imminent. Then came
further outbreaks of the flight impulse. Runs a graphic
account :
The crowd needed no second warning. They turned and
fled. Hammers, shovels and bandages were thrown aside.
Stores were left wide open with piles of currency on their
counters. Homes were vacated in a twinkling. Little tots
couldn't understand why they were being dragged along so
fast. Some folks never looked back. Others did, either to
* Giddings, Franklin H., Principles of Sociology (N. Y., 1916), bk. ii^
ch. ii, p. 136.
'Stephens, Henry M., A History of the French Revolution (N. Y.,
1886), vol. i, p. 179.
'Wells, H. G., In the Days of the Comet (N. Y., 1906).
43] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 43
catch a last glimpse of the home they never expected to see
again or to tell if they could from the sky how far behind them
the Dreaded Thing was. . . . They fled as they were. . . . Some
carried children or bundles of such things as they had scram-
bled together. . . . Many were but scantily clad. Women fled
in their night dresses. A few were stark naked, their bodies
blackened with soot and grime. These had come from the
destroyed section of the North End. What a storm-tossed
motley throng, and as varied in its aspect and as poignant in
its sufferings as any band of Belgian or Serbian refugees flee-
ing before the Hun. ... A few rode in autos, but the great
majority were on foot. With blanched faces, bleeding bodies
and broken hearts, they fled from the Spectral Death they
thought was coming hard after, fled to the open spaces where
possibly its shadow might not fall. Soon Citadel Hill and the
Common were black with terrified thousands. Thousands more
trudged along St. Margaret's Bay road, seeking escape among
its trees and winding curves. . . . Many cut down boughs and
made themselves fires — for they were bitterly cold. Here they
were — poorly clad, badly wounded, and with not one loaf of
bread in all their number, so hastily did they leave, when gallop-
ing horsemen announced the danger was over and it was safe
to return.^
The ever-sihifting responsivcirLess to nimoir which distin-
guishes a crowd was noted.
The entrance to the Park was black with human beings, some
massed in groups, some running anxiously back and forth like
ants when their hill has been crushed. There were blanched
faces and trembling hands. The wildest rumors were in cir-
culation and every bearer of tidings was immediately sur-
rounded.2
Not only here but when the crowd trekked back, and in
1 Johnstone, Dwight, The Tragedy of Halifax (in MS.).
*St. John Globe, Correspondence, Dec, 1917.
44 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [44
the subsequent scenes which were witnessed in supply sta-
tions and shelters, the association which Sidis draws be-
tween calamity and hyper-suggestibiliity in the body politid
was abundantly endorsed.
We must now endeavor to understand the phenomena of
emotion which accompany a great catastrophe. This is
noft the less difficult because the term emotion lis not given
consistent use even by psychologists. One interprets it
as merely the affective side of the instinctive process —
those " modes of affective experience," such as " anger, fear,
curiosity/' which accompany the excitement of " the prin-
cipal powerful instincits." ^ Another sees it as alsoi an impul-
sive, not merely a receptive state. It is " the way the body
feels when it is prepared for a certain reaction," and in-
cludes " an impulse toward the particular reaction." ^
It will be accurate enough for our purpose to think of
the emotions as complicated states of feeling more or less
allied to one another and to the human will.® Aimlong them
are jealousy arid envy — " discomfort at seeing others ap-
proved and at being out-done by them." * This appeared
repeatedly in the administration of relief and should be in-
cluded in disaster psychology. Again greed ^ — more strictly
a social instinct than an emotion^ — was common. How comj-
rnion will receive further exemplification in a later chapter.
* McDougall, op. cit., p. 46.
'Woodworth, Robert S., Dynamic Psychology (N. Y., 1918), ch. iii,
p. 54.
'"Anger, zeal, determination, willing, are closely allied, and probably
identical in part. Certainly they are aroused by the same tstimulus,
namely, by obstruction, encountered in the pursuit of some end." {Ihid.,
p. 149.)
*Thorndike, op, cit., p. loi.
*"To go for attractive objects, to grab them when within reach, to
hold them against competitors, to fight the one who tries to take them
away. To go for, grab and hold them all the more if another is trying
to do so, these lines of conduct are the roots of greed. (Ibid., p. 102.)
45] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 45
Fear has already been referred to. Anger, shame, re-
sentment while evident, were of less significance. Grati-
tude was early shown and there were many formal expres-
sions of i)t. Later on, it seemed to be replaced by a feeling
that as sufferers they, the victims, were only receiving their
due in whatever aid was obtained.
Of special interest is the role of the tender emotions,
kindliness, sympathy and sorrow, as well as the reactions
which may be expected when these occur in imusual exalta-
tion (through the repetition O'f stimuli or otherwise.
Whatever m'ay be the nature of the process wheneby the
feelings of his fellows affect a man, that which chiefly con-
cerns us here, is how these reactions differ when the stimula-
tion is multiplex. Of this multiplex stimulation in collec-
tive psychology Graham Wallas has written:
The nervous exaltation so produced may be the effect of the
rapid repetition of stimuli acting as repetition acts, for instance,
when it produces seasickness or tickling. ... If the exaltation is
extreme conscious control of feeling and action is diminished.^
Reaction is narrowed and men may behave, as they behave in
dreams, less rationally and morally than they do if the whole
of their nature is brought into play.^
What Wallas has said of the additional stimulation which
the presence of a crowd induces may be given wider applica-
tion, and is indeed a most illumiinating thought, describing
exactly the psycho^emotional reactions produced by the
stimulajtion of terrifying scenes, such as were witnessed at
Halifax.
* M. Dide, a French psychologist, regards " the hypnosis produced by
emotional shock — and this occurs not only in war but in other great
catastrophits as well — as genetically a defence reaction, like natural
sleep whose function according to him is primarily prophylactic against
exhaustion and fatigue, ... it is comparable to the so-called death-
shamming of animals." (Dide, M., Les emotions et la guerre (Paris,
1918), Review of, Psychological Bulletin, vol. xv, no. 12, Dec, 1918, p. 441.)
2 Wallas, Graham, The Great Society (N. Y., 1917), p. 136.
4.6 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [46
A case io point was that of the nervous exaltation pro-
duced upon a young doctor who operated continuously for
many hours in the removal of injured eyes. The emotional
tension he went through is expressed in his words to a
witness : " If relief doesn't come to me soon, I shall murder
somebody."
Another instance where conscious conftrol of feeling and
action was diminished was that of a soldier. He was so
affected by what he passed through during the explosion and
his two days' participation in relief work, that he quite un^
wittingly took a seat in a train departing for Montreal.
Later in a hospital of that city after many mental wander-
ings he recovered his miemory. Over and over again he
had been picturing the dreadful scenes which he had ex-
perienced. This condition includes a hyperactivity of the
imagination "characterized by oneirism [oneiric delirium]
reproducing most often' the tragic or terrible scenes which
immediately preceded the hypogenic shock." ^
The nature of sympathy ^ may not be clearly compre-
hended but of its effects there is no doubt. It may lead to
the relief of pain or induce the exactly opposite effect; or
it may bring about so lively a distress as to quite incapacitate
a man from giving help. Again it may lead to the avoid-
ance of disaster scenes altogether. Thus some could on no
account be prevailed upon to go into the hospitals or to enter
the devastated area. Others by a process understood im
the psychology of insanity secured the desired avoidance by
suicide. The association of suicide with catastrophe has
been already remarked in the case of San Francisco. A
Halifax instance was that of a physician who had labored
hard aim>ong the wounded. He later found the reaction of
* Ibid., p. 440.
'Classed by William James as an emotion, but considered by Mc-
Dougall a pseudo-instinct.
47] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 47
his emotional experiences too strong. He lost his mental
balance and was discovered dead one morning near his
office door. He had hanged himself during the night.
Still another, a railroad man, driven to despair by loneliness
and loss, his wife and children having perished, attempted
to follow them in death.
Joy and sorrow are pleasure-pain conditions of emotional
states. Sorrow is painful because " the impulse is baffled
and cannot attain more than the most scanty and imperfect
satisfaction in little acts, such as the leaving of flowers on
the grave; "^ although the intensity is increased by
other considerations. Here again the unusual degree of
stimulation which catastrophe induces brings about a be-
havior other than that which commonly attends the ex-
perience of grief. A phenomenon associated with whole-
sale bereavement is the almost entire absence of tears. A
witness of the San Francisco disaster said it was at the
end of the second da;y that he saw tears for the first time.^
At Halifax, where the loss of life was many times greater,
there was little crying. There seemed to be indeed a miser-
able but strong consolation in the fact that all were alike
involved in the same calamity.*
There was " no bitterness, no complaint, only a great and ]
eager desire to help some one less fortunate." Anothei^.
observer said : " I have never seen such kindly feeling. I
have never seen such tender sympathy. I have never heard
an impatient word." And this was amongst men " who were
covered with bruises, and whose hearts were heavy, who
have not had a night's sleep, and who go all day long with-
*McDougall, op. cit., p. 152.
'O'Connor, Chas. J., San Francisco Relief Survey (N. Y., 1913), pt. i,
p. 6.
3 " The cutting edge of all our usual misfortunes comes from their
character of loneliness." — (James, William, Memories and Studies,
N. Y., 191 1, p. 224.)
48 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [48
out thought of food." Another visitor remarked "there is
not a more courageous, sane and reasonable people. Every-
one is tender and considerate. Men who have lost wives
and children, women whose sons and husbands are dead,
boys and girls whose homes have been des(troyed, are work-
ing to relieve the distress." A Montreal clergyman re-
ported that " Halifax people have been meeting with dry
eyes and calm faces the tragedies, the horrors, the suffer-
ings and the exposures which foillowed the explosion."
Grief is after all " a passive emotion," a " reaction of help-
lessness." It is " a state of mind appropriate to a condi-
tion of affairs where nothing is tO' be done " — ^ and there
was much to be done at Hah fax.
There are also to be added the phenomena of emotional
parturition. As was to be expected the shock meant the
im'mediate provision of a maternity hospital. Babies were
born in cellars and among ruins. Premature births were
common, one indeed taking place in the midst of the huddled
thousands of refugees waiting in anguish upon the Com-
mon for permission to return to their abandoned homes.
Nor were all the ills for which the shock was responsible
j immediately discernible. There were many post-catastro-
\ phic phenemena. Three months after the explosion many
found themselves suffering an inexplicable breakdown,
which the doctors attributed unquestionably to the catastro-
phe. It was a condition closely allied tO' " war-neurasth-
enia." Another disaster after-effect also may be here re-
corded. This was the not imnatural way in which people
" lived on edge," for a long period after the disaster.
There was a readiness and suggestibility to respond to
rumor or to the least excitant. Twice at least the schools
were emptied precipitately, and citizens went forth intoi
pell-mell flight from their homes upon the circulation of
reports of possible danger. No better illustraition is af-
*Woodworth, op. cit., p. 58.
49] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 49
forded of the sociological fact that " the more expectant,
or overwrought the public imind, the easier it is to set up a
great perturbation. After a series of public calamities
.... minds are blown about by every gust of passion or
sentiment.^
There are also to be included a few miscellaneous observa-
tions of behavior associated with the psychology of dis-
aster relief, (i) The preference upofn the part of the
refugee for plural leadership and decision. (2) The ag-
gravatiou' of helplessness through the open distribution of
relief. (3) The resentment which succeeds the intrusion
of strangers in- relief leadership. (4) The reaction of
lassitude and depression after a period of strain. (5) The
desire for privacy during interviews. (6) The vital im-
portance of prompt decision in preventing an epidemic of
complaint.*
Analytic psychology is becoming increasingly interested
in the phenomena of repression, inhibition and taboo.
The real motives of action are often very different
from the apparent motives which overlie them. Instinc-
tive tendencies are buried beneath barriers of civilization,
but they are buried alive. They are covered not crushed.
These resistances are either within our minds or in society.
The latter are summed up in conventionality, custom and
law, all so relatively recent* in time as ,to supply a very
thin veneer over the primitive tendencies which have held
sway for ages. Few realize the place which convention-
ality, custom and law possess m a community until in some
extraordinary catastrophe their power is broken, or what
is the same thing the ability to enforce them is paralyzed.
*Ross, Edward A,, Social Psychology (N. Y., 1918), ch. iv, p. 66.
'A list compiled by the author from suggestions in Deacon's dis-
cussion of disasters. All were to be observed at Halifax.
'It has been said that were the period of man's residence on earth
considered as having covered an hundred thousand years, that of
civilization would be represented by the last ten minutes.
go CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [50
This tact is especially true of repressive enactments, and
^most laws fall within this category. Catastrophe shatters
/the unsubstantial veneer. When the police O'f Boston went
on strike it was not only the signal for the crooks of all
sfcowns to repair to the unguarded center, but an unexpected
reserve of crookedness came to light within the city itself.
Lytton discovered at Pompeii signs of plunder and sacrilege
which had taken place " wheni the pillars of the world tot-
tered to and fro." At the time of the St. John Fire
" loafers and thieves held high carnival. All night long they
roamed the streets and thieved upon the misfortunes of
others." ^
With the possibility of apprehension reduced to a mini-
mum in the confusion at Halifax, with the deterrent forces
of respectability and law practically unknown, men ap-
peared for what they were as the following statement only
too well discloses:
Few folk thought that Halifax harbored any would-be ghouls
or vultures. The disaster showed how many. Men clambered
over the bodies of the dead to get beer in the shattered brew-
eries. Men taking advantage of the flight from the city because
of the possibility of another explosion went into houses and
shops, and took whatever their thieving fingers could lay hold
of. Then there were the nightly prowlers among the ruins,
who rifled the pockets of the dead and dying, and snatched
rings from icy fingers. A woman lying unconscious on the
street had her fur coat snatched from her back. . . . One of
the workers, hearing some one groaning rescued a shop-keeper
from underneath the debris. Unearthing at the same time a
cash box containing one hundred and fifty dollars, he gave it
to a young man standing by to hold while he took the victim
to a place of refuge. When he returned the box was there,
but the young man and the money had disappeared.
Then there was the profiteering phase. Landlords raised
1 Stewart, George, The Story of the Great Fire in St. John (Toronto,
1877), p. 35.
^l] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 51
their rents upon people in no position to bear it. The Halifax
Trades and Labor Council adopted a resolution urging that
the Mayor be authorized to request all persons to report land-
lords who " have taken advantage of conditions created by the
explosion." . . . Plumbers refused to hold their union rules
in abeyance and to work one minute beyond the regular eight
hours unless they received their extra rates for overtime ; and
the bricklayers assumed a dog-in-the-manger attitude and re-
fused to allow the plasterers to help in the repair of the
chimneys. And this during days of dire stress . . . when
many men and women were working twelve and fourteen hours
a day without a cent or thought of remuneration. One
Halifax newspaper spoke of these men as " squeezing the utter-
most farthing out of the anguished necessities of the homeless
men, women and children." Truckmen charged exorbitant
prices for the transferring of goods and baggage. Merchants
boosted prices. A small shopkeeper asked a little starving child
thirty cents for a loaf of bread.
On Tuesday, December the twelfth, the Deputy Mayor issued
a proclamation warning persons so acting that they would be
dealt with under the provisions of the law.^
Slowly the anmi of repression grew vigorous once more.
The military placed troops on patrol. Sentries were posted
preventing entrance to the ruins to those who were not
supplied with a special pass. Orders were issued to shoot
any looter trying to escape. The Mayor's proclamation, the
warning of the relief committee, the storm of popular in-
dignation gradually became effectual.
The stimulus of the same catastrophe, it thus appears,
may result in two different types of responses — that of
greed on the one hand or altruistic emotion on the other.
One individual is spurred to increased activity by the op^'^
portunity of business profit, another by the sense of social^j
needs. Why this is so — indeed the whole field of profiteer-
* Johnstone, op. cit.
52 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [52
itig — would be a subject of interesting enquiry. Whether it
is due to the varying degrees of sociahzation represented
in the different individuals or whether it is not also partly
due to the fact that philanthropy functions best in a sphere
out of line with a man's own particular occupation, the
truth remains that some display an altogether unusual type
of reaction in an emergency to the actions of others; and
perhaps exhibit behavior quite different from that which
appears normal in a realm of conduct where associations
based on habit are so strongly ingrained.
The human will as we have seen is in close association
with the emotions. We are now to notice the dynamogenic
value of the strong emotions aroused by catastrophe. It is
first of all essential to remember the role of adrenin in
counteracting the effects' of fatigue. Wonderful phenomena
of endurance in disaster might well be anticipated for
" adrenin set free in pain and in fear and in rage would
put the members of the body unqualifiedly at the disposal
of the nervous system." This is " living on one's will " or
on " one's nerve." There are " reservoirs " of power ready
to pour forth streams of energy if the occasion presents it-
self. Strong emotions miay become an "arsenal of aug-
mented strength." This fact William James .was quick to
see when he said "on any given day there are energies
slumbering within us which the incitements of that day do
not call forth." ^ But i|t was left to Cannon to unfold the
physiological reasons/ and for Woodworth to explain how
the presence of obstruction has power to call forth new
energies.* Indeed the will* is just the inner driving force
* James, William, The Energies of Men ON. Y., 1920), p. 11.
"Cannon, Walter B., Bodily changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear and Rage,
di. xi, p. 184, et seq.
•Woodworth, op. cit, p. 147.
*Will is indeed the supreme faculty, the whole mind in action, the
^3] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 53
of the individual and an effort of will is only " the develop-
ment of fresh motor power." ^ Following the lines of least
resistance the will experiences no' unusual exercise.
Catastrophe opposes the tendency to ehminate from life
everything that requires a calling forth of unusual ener-
gies.
The energizing influence of an emotional excitant was
shown at Halifax in the remarkable way in which sick
soldiers abandoned their beds and turned them over to the
victims rushed to the military hospitals. It was seen again
in the sudden accession of strength displayed by the in-
valids and the infirm during the hurried evacuation of the
houses — a behavior like that of the inhabitants of Antwerp
during the bombardment of that city in October 19 14, when
those who fled to Holland showed extraordinary resistance
to fatigue.^ The resistance to fatigue and suffering re-
ceived more abundant illustration at Halifax in the work of
rescue and relief. Often men themselves were surprised at
their own power for prolonged effort and prodigious strain
under the excitem<ent of catastrophe. It was only on Mon-
day (the fifth day) that collapses from work began to appear.
Among the more generally known instances of unusual en-
durance was that of a private, who' with one of his eyes
knocked out, continued working the entire day of the dis-
aster. Another was that of a chauffeur who with a broken
rib conveyed the wounded trip after trip to the hospital,
only relinquishing the work when he collapsed. An un-
known man was discovered at work in the midst of the ruins
internal stimulus which may call forth all the capacities and powers.
(Conklin, Edwin G., Heredity and Environment in the Development
of Man [Princeton], ch. vi, p. 47.)
^Woodworth, op. cit., p. 149.
2 Sano, F., " Documenti della guerra : Osservazioni psicologiche notate
durante il bombardamento di Anversa," Rivista di psichologia, anno
xi, pp. 1 19-128.
54 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [54
although his own face was half blown off. Those who' es-
caped with lesser injuries worked day and night while the
crisis lasted. Many did not go home for days, so mani-
fold and heavy were the tasks. There was no pause for
comment. Conversation was a matter of nods and silent
signs, the direction of an index finger. Weeks later the
workers were surprised to find themselves aged and thin.
The excitement, the stimulus of an overwhelming need had
banished all symptoms of fatigue. During the congestion
which followed the arrival of the relief trains there were
m'en who spent seventy-two hours with scarcely any rest
or sleep. One of the telephone terminal room staff stuck
to his post for ninety-two hours, probably the recoird case
of the disaster for endurance under pressure. Magnificent
effort, conspicious enough for special notice was the work
of the search parties who, facing bitterest cold and in the
midst of blinding sstorms, continued their work of rescue;
and the instance of the business girls, who' in the same
wqather worked for many hours with bottles of hot water
hung about their waists. An effect which could not es-
cape, observation was the strange insensibility to suffering
on the part of many of the victims themselves. Men,
women and little children endured the crudest operations
without experiencing the common effects of pain. They
seemed to have been anaesthetized by the general shock.
Sidewalk operations, the use of common thread for sutures,
the cold-blooded extracting of eyes were carried on often
without a tremor. This resistance to suffering was due
not only to the increase of energy already described but also
to the fact that the prostrating effect of pain as largely re-
lative to the diversion of attention, — as " headaches dis-
appear promptly upon the alarm of fire " and " toothaches
vanish at the moment of a burglar's scare." Much pain is
due to the super-sensitivity of an area through hyperaemia,
55] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 55
or increased blood supply, following concentrated attefn^
tion. Thus it is actually possible by volition to control
the spread of pain, and the therapeutic virtues of an
electric shock or a slap in the face are equally demonstrable.
This reasoning is also applicable to the absence of sympa-
thetic reactiotis among muny disaster workers. They were
found often to be "curiously detached and not greatly
moved by the distressing scenes in morgue, ini hospital, in
the ruins and at the inquiry stations."^
Catastrophe and the sudden termination of the normal /
which ensues become the stimuli of heroism and bring i
into play the great social virtues of generosity and of kind- ',
liness — which, in one of its forms, is mutual aid. The new ^
conditions, perhaps it would be more correct to say, afford
the occasion for their release. It is said that battle does
to the individual what the developing solution does to the
photographic plate, — brings out what is in the man. This
may also be said of catastrophe. Every community has its
socialized individuals, the dependable, the helpful, the con-
siderate, as well as the " non-socialized survivors of
savagery," who are distributed about the zero point of the
social scale. Calamity is the occasion for the discovery of
the " presence of extraordinary individuals in a group."
The relation of them to a crisis is one of the most im|portant
points in the problem' of progress.
At Halifax there were encountered many such individuals
as well as families who refused assistance that others might
be relieved. Individual acts of finest model were written
ineffaceably upon the social memory of the inhabitants.
There was the case of a child who released with her teeth
the clothes which held her mother beneath a pile of debris.
A wounded girl saved a large family of children, getting
them all out of a broken and burning home. A telegraph
1. Smith, Stanley K., The Halifax Horror (Halifax, 1918), ch. iv, p. 44.
56 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [56
Operator at the cost of his life stuck to his key, sent a warn-
ing message over the line and stopped an incoming train in
the nick of time.
Group heroism was no less remarkable. For the flood-
ing of the powder magazine in the naval yard an entire
battery volunteered. This was why the second explosion
did not actually occur. Freight handlers too, as well as
soldiers, revealed themselves possessors of the great spirit.
A conspicuous case was that oi the longshoremen working
on board of a ship laden with explosives. Fully realizing the
impending danger, because of the nearness of the burning
munitioner, they used what precious minutes of life re-
mained them to protect their own ship's explosives from
ignition. A fire did afterwards start upon the ship but
a brave captain loosed her from the pier, and himself ex-
tinguished the blaze which might soon have repeated in part
the devastations already wrought.
No disaster psychology should omit a discussion of the
psychology of helpfulness — that self-help to which the best
relief workers always appeal, as well as of the mutual aid
upon which emergency relief must largely depend. Mutual
aid while not a primary social fact is inherent in the associa-
tion of members of society, as it also "obtains among cells
and organs of the vital organism." As it insured survival
in the earlier stages of evolution ^ so' it reveals itself when
survival is again threatened by catastrophe.
The illustrations of mutual aid at Halifax would fill a
volume. Not only was it evidenced in the instances of
families and friends but also in the realm of business.
Cafes served lunches without charge. Drug stores gave
ooit freely of their supplies. Firms released their clerks
to swell the army of relief. A noteworthy case of com-
1 Kropotkin, Prince, Mutual Aid (N. Y., 1919), ch. i, p, 14.
57] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 57
munity service was that of the Grocers' Guild announdngi
that its m'embers would
fill no orders for outside points during the crisis, that they
would cooperate with the relief committee in delivering food-
stuffs free of charge to any point in the city, and that their
stocks were at the disposal of the committee at the actual cost
to them.^
By incidents such as these, Halifax gained the appellation
of the City of Comrades.
Catastrophe becomes also the excitant for an unparalleled
opening of the springs of generosity.^ Communication
has transformed mutual aid into a term of worldwide signi-
ficance. As at San Francisco, when from all directions
spontaneous gifts were hurried to the stricken city, when in
a period of three months seventeen hundred carloads and
five steamerloads of relief goods arrived, in addition to
millions of cash contributions, so was it at Halifax. So
it has always been, as is proven by Chicago, Dayton,
Chelsea as well as by numbers of other instances. The
public heart responds with instantaneous and passionate
sympathy. Halifax specials were on every railroad. Ships
brought relief by sea. Cities vied with each other in their
responses. Every hour brought telegraphed assistance from
governments and organizations. In about fifteen weeksi
approximately eight millions had been received, aside from
the Federal grant. But it was not the totality of the gifts,
but the nimiber of the givers which gives point to our study.
So many rushed with their donations to the Calvin Austin
before she sailed from Boston on her errand of relief that
* Johnstone, op. cit.
'There is no better evidence of the response of the public heart to a
great tragedy than the fact that at Halifax upwards of a thousand
offers were received for the adoption of the orphaned children.
^8 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [58
**ith€ police reserves were called out to preserve order." A
great mass of the contributions involved much personal
sacrifice upon the part of the contributors, as accompany-
ing letters testified. It could be written of Halifax as it
was of San' Francisco that :
all the fountains of good fellowship, of generosity, of sympathy,
of good cheer, pluck and determination have been opened wide
by the common downfall. The spirit of all is a marvelous
revelation of the good and fine in humanity, intermittent or
dormant under ordinary conditions, but dominant and all per-
vading in the shadow of disaster.^
Abridged and sketchy as the foregoing necessarily is, it is
perhaps full enough to have at least outlined the social
phenomena of the major sort which a great disaster presents.
These are found to be either abnormal and handicapping,
such as, emotional parturition ; or stimulative and promotive,
such as the dynamogenic reactions. In propositional form
it may be stated that catastrophe is: attended by phenonema'
of social psychology, which may either retard or promote
social organization.
In addition this chapter has discussed the role of catastro-
phe in stimulating community service, in presenting models
of altruistic conduct, in translating energy into action, in
defend 'ng law and order, and in bringing into play the great
social virtues of generosity, sympathy and mutual aid.
1 Bicknell, Ernest P., " In the Thick of the Relief Work at San
Francisco," Charities and the Commons, vol. xvi (June, 1906), p. 299.
CHAPTER III
Catastrophe and Social Organization
The organization of relief — The disaster protocracy — The transition
from chaos through leadership — Vital place of communication —
Utility of association — Imitation — Social pressure — Consciousness of
kind — "Discussion — Circumstantial pressure — ^Climate — ^Geographic de-
terminants— iClassification of factors.
We have seen something of the disintegration which
followed what has been called the " stun of the explosion."
It included the abrupt flight from, and the emptying of, all
the houses and centers of employment, the division O'f
families, in the haste of the runnitig and the rescue, and the
utter helplessness of thousands in the three basic necessities
of life — food, raiment and a roof. There was the dislocation
of transportation, the disorganization of business, and the
problem of unemployment aggravated because not only was
the work gone, but also with it the will to work.
Social organization comes next in order and because its
process was associated with the organization of relief — the
first social activity — the sociological factors observed in the
latter call for descriptive treatment. When the human
organism receives an accident to one of its parts, automatic
relief processes from within spring at once into being, and
it is so with the body politic. This "w"j medicatriA^
naturae" assumes sovereign power over all the resources
of the community. That part of the social sensorium which
is most closely organized in normal hours, first recovers
consciousness in disaster. In the case of Halifax it was
59] 59
6o CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [60
the army. So was it in Sam Fruncisco, and in Chelsea.
The army has the intensive concentration, the discipHne,
the organization and often the resource of suppHes instantly
available. Its training is of the kind for the endurance of
shock. ^ It so happened that at Halifax large numbers of
men in uniform were stationed where they could quickly
respond to call. They were very soon under orders. The
military authorities realized before midday, the part which
the army should play. The firemen too were a social group
which largely remained organized, and responded to the
general alarm soon after the explosion. Their chief and
deputy-chief had been instantly killed so they were leader-
less, until one of the city controllers assumed command, and
in spite of the wild exodus when the alarm of a second ex-
plosion spread, these men remained at their posts.
Play actors also^ display similar traits of collective be-
havior. They are accustomed to think quickly, to live in
restricted spaces, and to meet emergencies. Than the stage
there is no better school. Each actor does his or her part
and it alone. The Academy Stock Company, forsaking the
school of Thespis for that of Esculapius, organized the
first relief station established at Halifax. This was in
operation about noon on the day of the disaster.
Thus it came about that the soldiers, firemen and play
actors may be called the disaster protocracy.' They were
" the alert and effective," the most promptly reacting units
in emergency. And it would appear that the part of
society which is most closely organized and disciplined in
normal periods first recovers social consciousness in dis-
aster.
1 What has been said of soldiers is of course equally true of sailors.
' Giddings, Franklin H., " Pluralistic Behaviour," American Journal
of Sociology, vol. xxv, no. 4 (Jan., 1920), p. 539-
6i] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 6l
It is the events of the first few hours which are of
special interest to the sociologist. The word most descrip-
tive of the first observable phenomenon was leadership. The
soldiers were foremost in the work of rescue, of warning,
of protection, of transportation and of food distribution.
But the earliest leadership that could be called social, arising
from the public itself, was that oni the part of those who
had no family ties, much of the earliest work being doQie
by visitors in the city. The others as a rule ran first to their
homes to discover if their own families were in danger.
From this body in a short while however many came for-
ward to join in the activities of relief.
As already said those with no social, family or property
ties were among the first to begin relief work. But many
of these started early simply because they were present
where need arose. Many indeed of the uninjured folk at
a distance seemed unable to realize the terribleness' of the
immediate need in the stricken area. In fact, owing to the
collapse of communication they did not for an appreciable
time discover that there was an area more stricken than
their own, and devoted themselves to cleaning up glass and
the like. But within a quarter of an hour a hospital ship
had sent ashore two landing parties with surgeons and
emergency kits. With almost equal dispatch the passengers
of an incoming train — ^^the railroad terminal at the time
being in the north end of the city — were on hand, and were
among the earliest first-aid workers. One, a Montreal man,
was known individually to have rendered first aid to at
least a half hundred of the wounded.
It was early afternoon, perhaps five hours after the
catastrophe, when a semblance of cooperative action in
rescue work began. Previous to this the work had been done
in a rapid and random fashion, a single ruin being dug
through a second or even a third time. Then came the
^2 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [62
recognition of the utility of association/ Thereafter the
searchers became parties each of which was detailed to go
over a definite area. When a particular section had been
covered it was sO' recorded. This process considerably ex-
pedited the work in hand. Meanwhile relief was organized
in other important directions.
The vital place of communication in society was recog-
nized at once. It is a major influence in association, and
upon it in disaster depends the immediacy as well as the
adequacy of relief. Connections had been cut by the ex-
plosion and the outside world could only wait and wonder.
How little real information filtered through is shown by
the fact that at Truro, only sixty-two miles distant, the an-
nouncement was made three hours after the explosion that
the death roll would not bear mo^re than fifty names.
Nevertheless within an hour after the explosion a telegraph
company had a single line established, and with news of
the disaster, communities everywhere took up the role of
the Samaritan.
While the great hegira was in progress another leader,
a railroad official, drove rapidly out the Bedford Road and
commandeered the first unbroken wire to Moncton. There-
after all that the government railroad equipment could do
was at the community's service. Meanwhile the dislocated
railroad yards were being combed for a live engine and
coaches in commission. A hospital train was put together
and in less than four hours after the explosion a large
number of injured people were being transported to Truro.
Even before the rushing of the wounded to the hospitals
a few began to realize the great human needs which would
soon be manifest amiong the concourse O'f thousands who
waited in helpless suspense upon the Common and the hill.
Here they were en masse, a typical social aggregation, re-
1 Tenney, Alvan A., Unpublished lectures on Social Organization.
63] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 63
sponding to the primitive, gregarious instinct of the herd.
''Like sheep they had flocked together too bewildered for
consecutive thought." ^ Yet here ministrations of one sort
or another came into spontaneous operation. Soon the
military began raising white tents upon the field. One
after another they rose, presenting the appearance of an huge
encampment. The idea spread by imitation,^ the repetition
of a model, — " the imitative response of many minds to
the suggestive invention of one." One or two here and one
or two there began to prepare the big church halls and
other roomy institutional buildings for occupancy. Hastily
the windows were patched up, the glass swept out, and no
sooner had the danger of a second explosion passed, and the
rumor of a possible roof reached the homeless, than
they began to repair thither. At first each improvised shelter
became a miniature clothing and food depot at well as a
habitation. Then the idea spread of taking the refugees into
such private homes as had fared less badly. Imitation is the
foundation of custom. It became the thing to do. The
thing to do is social pressure. It may be unwilled and un^
intended but it is inexorable. It worked effectively upon
all who had 2n unu'sed room. Many sheltered upwards of
a dozen for weeks; some, more.
In the homes and shelters association of the like-minded
soon came about through consciousness of kind. At first
it was a very general consciousness which seemed to draw'i
all together into a fellowship of suffering as victims of a
common calamity. There was neither male nor female, just
nor unjust, bond nor free. Men, women and little child-
ren lay side by side in the large sleeping rooms and
" shared each other's woes," for " the consciousness of
1 Bell, McKelvie, A Romance of the Halifax Disaster (Halifax, 1918).
2 Tarde, Gabriel, Les lois de Vimitation (N. Y., 1903), translation by
E. C. Parsons, ch. i, p. 14.
64 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [64
kind allays fear and engenders comradeship.^ Then fol-
lowed requests for changes of location in the dormitories,
and for changes of seats at thq dining tables. As various
shelters sprang up, the religious element appeared. Ap-
pH cations came for transfers from Roman Catholic insti-
tutions to Protestant stations and vice versa. Even the
politically congenial were only too ready to segregate when
occasion offered.
Discussion and agreement must precede all wise con^
certed volition. There mtist be " common discussion of
common action." ^ Propositions must be " put forth " and
talked over. There must be a " meeting of minds " and a
" show of hands," and decisions made. There had been
no preparedness. The city possessed not even a paper
organization for such a contingency as a sudden disaster;
so that during the most precious hours citizens and civic
officials had to consult and map out a program as best
the circumstances allowed. It was late afternoon on the
day of the disaster when a tentative plan had been formu-
lated in the City Hall. The newly formed committees
could do but little utitil the? following dawn.
Men at best are largely creatures of circumistance. In-
numerable causes, small and great, conspire to incite social
action. But in catastrophe the control of circumstantial
pressure^ becomes almost sovereign in extent. The con^
ditions it brings about, while often delaying measures of in-
dividual relief, account very largely for the rapidity of
organization. While they limit they also provoke effort.
The common danger constrains great numbers to " overlook
many differences, to minimize many of their antagonisms
and to combine their efforts." At Halifax the pressure
^Giddings, op. cit., p. 396.
'Bagehot, Walter, Physics and Politics (N. Y., 1884), p. 159, et seq.
• Giddlngs, op. cit., p. 390.
65] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 65
of indescribable suffering precipitated the medical and
hospital arrangements which were the earliest forms of
communal service. But it was the (meteorological con-
ditions which commanded the most prompt attention to the
consideration of shelter and clothing. The months ap-
peared to have lost station and February to have come out
of season. The following table gives the weather record for
the seven days which followed the catastrophe.^ It is the
record of a succession of snow, wind, cold and blizzard.
Thursday, Dec. 6th. 9 a. m. Fair. Frozen ground. Light
N. W. wind. No precipitation. Tem-
perature: max. 39.2, min. 16.8.
Friday, Dec. 7th. 9 a. m. N. E. wind, velocity 19. Snow
falling. At noon N. W. gale. After-
noon, blizzard conditions. 9 p. m.
N. W. wind, velocity 34. Precipitation
16.0 in. snow. Temperature: max.
32.2, min. 24.8.
Saturday, Dec. 8th. 9 a. m. N. W. wind, velocity 20. Inter-
mittent sunshine. 9 p. m. N. W. wind,
velocity 11. Precipitation 1.2 snow
(in a. m.). Temperature: max. 29.8,
min. 15.
9 a. m. S. E. gale, velocity 39. Streets
icy and almost impassable. 9 p. m.
S. W. wind, velocity 27. Precipitation
.99 rainfall (1.40 a. m. till noon).
Temperature: max. 50.41, min. 14.6.
9 a. m. S. W. wind, velocity 1 1 . After-
noon, blizzard (worst in years). Knee-
deep drifts. 9 p. m. W. wind, velocity
20. Precipitation 5.6 snowfall (2 p. m.
till 5.40 p. m.). Temperature: max.
34.2, min. 16.8.
*From information kindly supplied by D. L. Hutchinson, director of
the iSt. John (N. B.) observatory, and F. B. Ronnan, Halifax Station.
Sunday, Dec. 9th.
Monday, Dec. loth.
66 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [66
Tuesday, Dec. nth. 9 a. m. Clear. W. wind, velocity 18.
9 p. m. W. wind, velocity 11. No
precipitation. Temperature : max. 18.2,
min. 6.6
Wednesday, Dec. 12th. 9 a. m. N. W. wind, velocity, 15. 9
p. m. N. E. wind, velocity 3. No pre-
cipitation. Temperature: max. 17,
min. 2.
In consequence of otherwise unendurable conditions, the
most rapid repairs were made to all habitable houses or
(those possible of being made so'. The same was true of
public buildings, hospitals, factories and warehouses.
Moreover the same explanation accounts for the exodus of
miany who sought for shelter tO' the countryside nearby ; and
the many more who accepted the invitation of, and entrained
for various Nova Scotian towns which became veritable
" cities of refuge " to hundreds. The climate ^ decided
the question of reconstruction in favor of temporary struc-
tures; for it was a time of year when prompt rebuilding
was out of the question. Climatic condiitions also seriously
delayed the arrival of relief supplies, allowed but scanty
/provision for many, kept somie from the depots of relief,
or from surgical aid; and others standing in line in the
bitter cold. It also- added seriously to the sanitation and
shelter problem. But it speeded and spurred the workers
to prevent the maximum of exposure and neglect. It called
imperatively for the most effective system-, and many
of the workable methods were hit upon under the stress of
storm. An illustration of this may be found in the adop-
tion of many food depots instead of one central $tation.
Regional influence thus " fixes the possibilities of organiza-
tion and collective effectiveness.'" The sociologist must
^Semple, Ellen, Influences of Geographic Environment (N. Y., 1911),
p. 607, et seq.
'Giddings, op. cit., p. 389.
6^] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 67
study maps of lands and plans of cities. The location
of the food stations at Halifax Was a matter of topography
as we;re the lajter administration districts. The city is
widely spread out. It has fifty more miles of street than
a city of similar population in a neighboring province. Six
depots were established for the public distribution of sup-
plies/ situated so as to touch the entire needy population
most effectively, and to equalize the groups to some degree.
So too, in the matter of dressing stations, accessibility was
a deciding factor. But even this system had to be supple-
mented. Bread vans were driven hither and thither and wheni
halted in the center of a s|treet were usually immediately
surrounded. Thus social reorganization in catastrophe!
witnesses to an urgency resident no less in space than in
time and reemphasizes the importance placed upon the
physical factors in sociology.
Thus may be said to have come about the transiltioo from
chaos to a semblance of comimtunity oirganization. Not the
normal civil social order of pre-disaster days, but the estab-
lishment of a species of collective behavior, and the organ-
ization of relationships apparently Oif a quite different
character. The difference was one which might be com-
pared to that between a great relief camp and a city. But
the difference was only superficial. Fundamentally there
were to be seen the factors underlying all social organiza-
tion. These have been already illustrated, and are classified
as psychological, such as leadership, gregarious instinct,
imitation, consciousnesis o-f kind, discussion, recognition of
utility of association and custom; and as physical, includ-
ing climate and topography.^ The conclusion was drawn*
*For a period! of two weeks meals for 15,000 people were distributed
every day.
'Other sociological factors might also be illustrated, namely, (a) the
biological, including, besides the density of population, the heredity and
68 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [68
that the part of society which is most closely organized and
disciplined in normality, first recovers consciousness in
catastrophe, and the value of a militia organization in every
>'t!ommunity is a practical corollary. This follows not only
j Ibecause of the imperturbabiliity and the promptitude of
1 reactiom, of an army in crisis, but also because! of the
rapidity with which it can be mobilized, its value in pre-
i j serving law and order, its authoritative control a*nd power to
'punish, and because of the attending psychological effects
'of orderly bearing and coolness in a time of general chaos,
I bespeaking a care that is at once paternal and sympathetic.
the physical and mental health of the inhabitants, (b) the equipmental
factor, including available economic resources, general enlightenment,
social surplus and institutional facilities for re-education, etc. {Vide
ch, vii.)
CHAPTER IV
Catastrophe and Social Organization (Cont'd)
The reorganization of the civil social order — Division of labor— <Re-
sumption of normal activities^ — ^^State and voluntary associations —
Order of reestablishment — Effects of environmental change — The
play of imitation — The stimulus of lookers-on-^Social conservation.
It is not necessary to repeat the fact, which the reader
has already seen, that the process of complete social organ-
ization was largely expedited by the organization of relief,
and materially reacted upon by it. The community's " big
men," the men of prominence, the mien of broad experience
in civic and philanthropic work, the men who knew the re-
sources of the city and had the prestige Ito command them,
were deeply immersed in the relief work while the businessea
and the departments of the shattered body politic waited or
went forward in a more or less indifferent way.
But this could be bojth economically and socially of ai
temporary nature only. " Business and industry must be
set agoing. Church and school must resume the ordinary
routine. One by one the broken threads of the former
everyday life, the life of custom and habit must be recon-
nected." The division of social labor ^ is a law of
society. It is traceable back to the primitive household
itself, and is a result of underlying differences. The
great " cause which deteimines the manner by which work
is divided is diversity of capacity." With the advent of the
social specialists at Halifax a major division of function
^ Durkheim, £mile, De la division du travail social (Paris, 1893).
69I 69
70 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [70
began. The respcwisibility for the relief work having been
delegated to a special social group, public thought and
public men were free to turn their energies to the restora-
tion of a normal society.
But it was the reorganization rather than the organiza-
tion of relations which the sociologist observes to have first
retaken place. The stage was all laid. It was necessary only
[ Jor the actors in Ithe drama to resumie their places. The
old " parts" awaited them, although many of the "proper-
ties " were no more. Or to use the nuore sociological jargon
one might say, there was still the homogeneity of stock,
still a dominating like-mindedness, sitill a protocracy, still
a group of mores to serve as media of social self-control.
^ Indeed miost of the former complexities of social structure
remained. But this was only potentially true. The social
relations based upon the underlying factors had to be resumed.
Moreover the resumption was accompanied by various changesi
the significance of which will appear in later discussion.
The order of the resumption of normal activities is of unusual
social interest as are also the influences which were in play
and the changes which etiisued. It may be objected that
such a tabulation is unfair to the various socially comipon-
enit groups and that the special exigencies of each preclude
comparison. But at least one index of the bent of the
social mind is the separation of those activities which must
needs be first rehabilitated, from those which can wait.
Organizing genius was not entirely occupied with relief in
the ordinary sense of the term.
Ecmiomic vigor is one of the most vital things in a comh
munity's life. It is in a sense fundamental not only to
happiness and general well-being but accompanies and con-
ditions the cultural institutions, religious, educational oiid
aesthetic. It is not surprising then that Commercial activity-
was in actual fact the earliest aspect of life to resume a
71 ] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION yi
semblance of normality. Naturally public utilities were
first on the list, for these include systems of communication
without which society can hardly be. Reference has al-
ready been made to the speed with which a makeshift service
was established, but our purpose here is to record the resump-
tion of normal activity.
Wire communication is led out from the city by pole lines.
Many of these had been demolished, Or broken at the cross-
beam. Clerks had been injured and instruments damaged.
In spite of these odds one was reconnected within an hour,
and by the evening of the day of the disaster six direct
multiplex wires to Montreal, three to St. John and one each
to Bostom and New York, had been established. Upwards
of a thousand messages an hour went forth the first week.
The work became normal about December twentieth.
The telephone system suffered the loss of the entire north-
ern exchange and of the harbor cable — broken through ships
dragging anchor — a total material damage of one hundred
thousand dollars. Its personnel was also depleted. Neverthe-
less telephone business may be said to have been generally
resumed on the seventh, the day after the disaster, and the
load of local traffic soon attained over one hundred and
twenty percent above its average figure. Telephone service
was absolutely suspended for only about two hours, — ^the
period of prohibition from buildings, — and the cable tele-
phone for about three days. Messages of a social character
were tabooed for several weeks, when the work again becamie
normal.
The illumination service was quickly restored. The
company was able to give partial light and some service
from noon on the sixth. Periods of intermittent darkness
however, were not unusual. Gas service was off until De-
cember the ninth — the top of the gasometer having been
broken and two hundred thousand cubic feet deflected from
72 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [72
the mains into the air — when repairs were completed and on
the tenth the service resumed. On the fourteenth gas and
electric light service became normal.
Railroad communication had been dislocated. The ex-
plosion occurred in the vicinity of the principal sidings and
vitrJ portions of the system. Three miles of the main
ruad were buried in debris, the station wrecked, equipment
damaged, and crews scattered searching for their dead.
In spite of this, as already noted, a hospital train was sent
out in the early afternoon of the disaster day and incom-
ng trains were switched to their new tracks leading to the
south end terminal. On the evening of the day following
the disaster — Friday — the first regular train for Montreal
left the city. Two days later the main lines were clear
and the first train left the old passenger station on
Saturday evening. By Monday the full passenger service
was resumed, to and from- the station. Eight days after
the catastrophe all branches of the service were working
and conditions were fairly normal.
The rolling stock of the street-car system sustained much
damage. Some of the employees were injured and others
were unavailable. A scant service was restored at noon on
December the sixth. By six o'clock of the seventh, tram
lines in the north section were able to resume an eight-car
service. Then the blizzard came and tied up all lines. It
was not until Sunday, December ninth, that it was possible
to resume any semblance of car service. On the twenty-
second of December, twenty-two cars were operating — •
•twenty-seven is the normal number, — ^but the shortage of
men made it difficult to operate the full number. The
service was not entirely normal for some months owing to
the severe storms all winter which tied up the lines and
caused delavs, and to the shortage of men to handle the cars.
The newspaper offices by the employment of hand com-
73] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 73
positors were able to prcxiuce papers on December seventh
but in limited editions and of reduced size. This was
owing to the dependency of the linotypes upon the gas
service which had failed. The normal-size production re-
commenced in a week's time.^
The postal service was completely disorganized and was
not restored to any extent until Monday the tenth of De-
cember. Owing to the innumerable changes of address, as
well as many other reasons, it was weeks before there was
a normal and reliable distribution of mails.
The banks were open for business the morning following
the catastrophe, just as soon as the doors and windows were
put in. Traffic of relief trains coming in affected the
ordinary trade for three months, more or less, but princi-
pally outside of the city. In the city all business in the
banks went on as usual the day after the explosion.
Two instances are selected at random to illustrate the
resumption of general business activity. Out of much;
wreckage and a forty-thousand-dollar loss one company
restarted paint and varnish making on January second. A
large clothing establishment, had been badly damaged. The
factory and all branches of the business were running in
five weeks — January tenth. Machines were in operation with
shortened staffs at an earlier date.
The regular meetings of the City Council recommenced
on December twentieth, and were held regularly from that
time on. The Board of Trade rooms were not badly
damaged and there was no cessation of work or meetings.
The theatres were speedily repaired and resumed business
on Friday, December the twenty-eighth. The Citizen's
Library was a few weeks closed for the circulation of books,
1 In the great Baltimore fire of 1904 the Baltimore Sun, by remarkable
enterprise was gotten out at Washington, 45 miles distant, and did not
miss a single issue.
74 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [74
and used in relief service as a food depot, thus ministering
to a hunger which is more imperious than that of mind in
the hour of catastrophe.
Of the churches several were entirely destrayed. Ini all
cases the edifices were injured, organs disordered and win-
dows shattered. Parishes were in some instances almost
wiped out. In a single congregation four hundred and four
perished. In another niearly two hundred were killed, the
remainder losing their property. In a third, of the one
hundred and eight houses represented in the congregation
only fourteen were left standing. Hurried efforts were
made to safeguard church property, but church services were
not generally resumed until the second Sunday.^ Even
then the congregations were small and the worshipping-
places were not in all cases churches. Theatres, halls and
other buildings housed m,any a religious gathering. While
the restoration of churches waited, clergy and church
workers gave themselves unremittingly to the relief of the
needy, the succor of the injured and the burial of the dead.
Their intimate knowledge of family conditions was of in-
estimable value in the relief administration. Sunday
schools were reassembled as accommodations permitted, but
it was many months before the attendances approximated
the normal.
The school system was badly disorganized. Three
buildings were totally destroyed, and all were rendered un-
inhabitable for some time. The lotss was approximately
eight-hundred thousand dollars. The members of the staff
were given over to relief committees, registration, nursing
and clothing service. Early in March, about three months
after the explosion, arrangements were completed whereby
1 On the first Sunday, December ninth at eleven o'clock Archdeacon
Armitage conducted Divine service in St. Paul's Church, and the same
afternoon this edifice was used by the congregation of AH Saints
Cathedral.
75] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 75
nearly all the children in the city could attend classes. The
double-session system was introduced to accomplish this.
Rooms were necessarily over-crowded and ventilation im-
paired. By May eighth, fifteen school buildings were ini
use.^
Progress m reopening schools is indicated by the follow-
ing schedule.
Dec. 10 classes in one institution
Jan. 7 " " three emergency shelters
Jan. 8 " "a church hall
Jan. 14 " " five school buildings
Jan. 17 " " one institution
Jan. 21 " " two school buildings
Jan. 22 " " one school building
Jan. 24 " " one school building
Feb. I " " one institution
Feb. 25 " " two school buildings
Mar. 16 " " one school building
Apr. 8 " *' one school building
May 8 " " one school building
May 20 " " two portable schools
The community as finally reorganized differed materially
from that which had preceded. The picture of the
conditions at a considerably later period will be fully pre-
sented elsewhere. Here will be noted only a few social
effects immediately apparent a:nd due to the temporary en-
vironmental conditions.
Owing to the number of men required for reconstruction
work the Tramway Company found it very difficult to get
a full complement of men back into the service. As a re^
suit they took into consideration the advisability of em-
ploying women conductors, and finally adopted this plan.
At the .time of the explosion a heated election campaign
was in progress. Then representative men of both political
1 Quinn, J. P., Report of Board of School Commissioners for City of
Halifax, 1918.
76 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [76
parties urged their followers to drop the election fight and
the election was deferred and later rendered unnecessary
by the withdrawal of one of the candidates.
The darkening of the water-front, the shading of win-
dows, and other war-protective measures against the
submarine menace, were given little attention for many
weeks, and the coming into operation of the Military Ser-
vice Act was plostponed.
The establishment of relief stations, and later, of the
temporary relief houses in the central and southern portion
of the city brought about a very unusual commingling of
classes, as well as a readjustment of membership in schools,
parishes and various institutions.
Club life, social life, lodge and society " evenings " were
for a considerable period tabooed, because of a general
sentiment against enjoyment under the existing conditions
as well as to lack of accommodation and of time.
The clamor for arrests, for the fixing of responsibility
for the disaster, and for the meting out of punishment was
for a long time in evidence, but never received complete
satisfaction.
The difficulties of restoration of school attendance re-
peated the experience of the Cherry disaster, and the Truant
Officer had a very strenuous time owing to the fact that so
many people had changed their addresses.
A number of " special policemen " were recruited from
citizens of all ranks, and this force materially assisted the
members of the regular department. Owing to the large!
influx of workmen following the catastrophe, as well as
for other reasons the work of the detectives was greatly
increased.^
The survivors of two neighboring congregations, although
belonging to different denominations, united in erecting a
1 Hanrahan, F., Report of Chief of Police, Halifax, 1918.
77] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION yy
temporary church building — their respective churches hav-
ing been destroyed — and have since worshipped together — ai
demonstration of the practicabiHty of church imion under
circumstantial pressure.
The display apartments of a furniture concern were;
utilized as actual living rooms by refugees for a period,
while at the same time business was in operation through-
out the rest of the establishment.
The necessary functioning of relief activities, seven days
in the week, the keeping of stores open on Sundays and the
general disorganization of the parishes was reflected for ai
long period in a changed attitude upon the part of many
towards Sabbath observance.
German residenfts of the city were immediately placed
under arrest when the disaster occurred, but all were later
given their freedom.
The citizens of Halifax were almost entirely oblivious
to the progress of the war and other matters of world in-
terest, for many days after the disaster.
The reversion to the use of candles, oil lamps and lanterns
was an interesting temporary effect.
The rapidity of the reorganization, as well as the sub-
sequent expansion, noted later, was largely effected by the
social law of imitation already noticed. Many of the con-
ditions affecting the rate of imitation were present. There
was a crisis, there was necessity, there was trade and business
advantage, social pressure, public demand, shibboleths — " al
new Halifax " for example^ — but above all there was a multi-
tude of models. The extent and scale of the rebuilding
program in one area, the civic-improvement plans which
accompanied the work in that district, the record time in
which relief houses were completed, the marvellous speed
at which the demolition' companies cleared away the de-
bris acted as models and stimuli to all inhabitants. The
78 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [78
process of speeding-up spread like a great contagion, until the
most hardened pessimist began tO' marvel at the recuperation
daily enacted before his eyes.
Among the models thus presented may be mentioned that
of the rapid establishment of the morgue. This, the largest
ever organized in Canada, was fitted up by forty soldiers and
mechanics in the brief period of a day and a half. Another
instance was that of the American Hospital. " At nine a. m.
Bellevue was an officer's mess. By ten p. m. the sam6
day it was a first-class sixty-six bed hospital, stocked with
food and medicine and, in charge of Major Giddings; " it ex-
pressed a veritable " triumph of organizing ability." In the
record time of three months, Messrs. Cavicchi and Pagano,
with a maximum, strength of nine hundred and fifty men
and two hundred and seventy horses working ten hours a
day removed every vestige of the debris in the devastated
area. Apartments were built at the rate of one an hour.
Motor lorries multiplied so rapidly that visitors said there
had been an outbreak of " truck fever " in the place.
By the stimulus of models, such as these, fresh vitality
and motive were imparted to the members of the community.
Halifax became busy as never before. New homes, new
stores, new piers, new banks, replaced the old as if by magic.
Men worked desperately hard.
An influence which must not be left unrecorded because
of its continuity of functioning is that of the stimulus of
lookers-on. More than two hundred cities in all parts of
the world had contributed to the reconstruction, and citizens
of Halifax knew they were not unobserved. Articles, lec-
tures and serm'ons were telling forth to interested thousands
how a city blown tO' pieces, swept by fire, buried underi
ice and snow, and deluged by rain, was a city courageous
beyond words. During the month of December, five lead-
ing periodicals in Canada and twelve in the United States
79] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION yg
arranged for articles and photographs descriptive of the
city's advantages commercial and residential.^ Halifax be-
came a world-known city. This added still further spur
to action. Halifax simply had to make good. She was
bonded to the world.
There are two considerations which may appropriately
bring this chapter to a close. The first arises naturally
from! what has been said, namely, that in catastrophe it is
only after division of functioni delegates to a special group
the responsibility for relief work that public thought is
directed to the resumption of normal society. The second
is a practical deduction — that of social conservation. Every
community should possess a permanent vigilance committee.
There should be an emergency procedure on paper with
duties outlined to which pledged men may be immediately
drafted. Only in this way can social economy be pre-
served until the arrival of experienced disaster authorities
from a distance. "^
1 SaiMiders, E, A., Report of Halifax Boafd of Trade, 1918.
CHAPTER V
Catastrophe and Social Organization (Cont'd)
The contribution of social service — Its four- fold character — The prin-
ciples of relief — Rehabilitation — Phases of application-^Criticisms —
A new principle — Social results — ^Summary for future guidance.
We have already seen that there are certain determining
factors in catastrophe and its social results. There is not
only the level of the general capability and culture of the
community, its power to meet crises and to readjust itself,
the scarcity or plenitude of its resources, but also the pre-
sence or absence of " men skilled in dealing with crises." ^
In the past, disaster-^stricken communities have had such
men or have had them not. The disasters of the future —
with the exception of those far remote from civilization —
may depend on the presence of such leaders. They will
come from near and far. The contribution of social service
is the contribution of men skilled in dealing with crises.
Relief thus becomes " an incident of progress and a social
policy." We are now to notice this further determining
factor in catastrophe as it applied itself to Halifax.
During the first week at Halifax not only did each day
bring its contribution of relief supplies in the way of food
and clothing, but each day brought also men and women of
skill and experience in social work to place freely their
vision and ability at the service of the community.*
1 Thomas, William I., Source Book of Social Origins (Chicago, 1909)*
Introduction, p. 18.
2 J. H. Falk, an expert in charge of the social welfare work in
Winnipeg; Miss Rathbum of Toronto, Mrs. Burrington of the Y. W.
80 [80
3i] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY gl
The Halifax disaster was one of the first of great extent
which has occurred since the principles cf relief have been
authoritatively written. No other community has ex-
perienced their application so; fully or sO' promptly. One
of the workers publicly stated that " Halifax was further
ahead iti relief work in two weeks than Lynn had been in a
month." It was said that :
Never before in any extensive disaster were the essential
principles of disaster relief so quickly established as at Halifax.
In less than twelve hours from the time the American Unit
from Boston arrived, the necessary features of a good working
plan were accepted by the local committee.^
This was, it is true, sixty hours after the disaster, but never-
theless the advent of -the social specialists brought to Hali-
fax that something which was wanting when the citizens,
astounded at the magnitude of their task, wondered just
how and where to begin. When Mr. Ratshesky^ of the
Public Safety Committee of the State of Massachusetts,
came into the room in the City Hall where a dozen or so
were gathered in counsel, already overwrought with fatigue,
C, A., Toronto. Christopher Lanz, under whose guidance the re-
habilitation work after the Salem fire was brought to a successful con-
clusion; Katherine McMahon, Head worker of the Social Service De-
partment of the Boston Dispensary, Lucy Wright, formerly Superin-
tendent for the Mass. Commission for the Blind; Elizabeth Richards
Day, Organizer and for many years Head Worker of the Social Service
Department of the Boston Dispensary; E. E. Allen, Superintendent of
the Perkins Institute for the Blind, C. C Carstens, Superintendent of
the Mass. Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children; John F.
Moors, president of the Associated Charities of Boston, who was in
■charge of the iRed Cross relief following the Salem and Chelsea fires ;
William H. Pear, Agent of the Boston Provident Association; J.
Prentice Murphy, General Secretary of the Boston Children's Aid
Society; A. C. Ratshesky, Vice-chairman of the Public Safety Com-
mittee of the State of Massachusetts.
1 Carstens, C. C, " From the Ashes of Halifax," Survey, vol. xxxix,
no. 13 (Dec. 2%, 1917), p. 361.
2 With Mr. Ratshesky were iMr. John F. Moors, and Major Giddings.
82 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [Sz
it was the coming of a friend in need. It was soon clean
that the new-comers had had unusual experience in dealing
with other disasters. At once everyone took new heart.
Only nine hours later, the Citizens' Relief Commiittee was
ready, and a working plan adopted; and from- it grew up
a wonderful system worthy of study by all students of
emergency relief. Thus social service broke into the midst
of the great calamity not as a mere adjunct to what was
already well devised, but as a central and deciding element,
justifying its faith by its work, and its presence by its
wisdom in grappling with an' inexorable need.
Of course there had already been a commendable essay
toward the solution of what had to be done. Applications for
relief came pouring in two hours after the explosion, and
industrious workers had already been dispensing to hurt-
dreds. On Friday morning volunteers were early at the
City Hall, among them many of the public school teachers.
A species of organization had already begun, but under con-
gested and the least favorable conditions. A large number
of investigators had gone forth, giving information and
relief and bringing bock reports of the missing, needy, help-
less and injured. The Salvation Army had commenced a
program of visits to follow up appeals. Clothing of all
kinds was pouring into every station where the refugeesi
were gathered together. The Canadian Red Cross was
already active. But with the coming of the American Unit,^
the transfer of the work to a new headquarters upon their
advice, and the adoption of a complete plan of organiza-
tion,* the systematic relief work imay be said to have in
reality begun.
1 The Public Safety Committee of Massachusetts and the Boston Unit
of the American iRed Cross.
* The scheme as finally decided upon consisted of a small managing
committee with sub-committees in control of food, clothing, shelter, fuel,,
burial, medical relief, transportation', information, finance and rebuilding.
83] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY 83
iThere was a four-fold contribution made by those ex-
perienced in relief and disaster organization. The initial
service was the establishment of a policy of centralization
of authority and administration into otie official r'elie^
organization. This policy comprised first the coordination
of the relief work into one central relief committee, second
the placing of the relief funds from all sources into the
hands of one finance committee, third the granting of relief
by one central management, all records being cleared
through one registration bureau, fourth the giving of em-
ergency relief in food, clothing and other things immediately
without waiting for the perfection O'f the relief organization,
and fifth, the appointing of a small managing committee to
carry out and interpret the general policy determined upon
by the executive committee.
If the first great service rendered was that of centraliza-
tion;, the second was that of effecting cooperation. The
latter was only partially successful. There was at first an
inevitable overlapping, especially in the matter oif visiting,
some families being visited and subjected to interview a
dozen times. Failing to' achieve complete coordination,
the central committee endeavored to limit duplication so^ far
as possible. An invitation extended to the Salvation Army
about December eleventh, to place their visitors at the dis-
posal of the general staff of visitors was declined and it was
not until January first that this organization fully coordinated
with the rehabilitation committee. It was about this time
also that the Roman Catholic clergy agreed to cooperate
in the registration plans. On December eighteenth th6
School Board gave official cooperation by assigning fifteen
school teachers as volunteer visitors under the direction of
the rehabilitation committee. Another obstacle to the com-
plete systematization of the relief work was the most
generous but independent distribution of clothing and sup-
84 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [84
plies from the Eaton Center, and from the station established
by a charitable Boston lady. The Protestant and Roman
Catholic clergy, as well as the Salvation Army and other
organizations received supplies in bulk and distributed to
their constituents often with hasty or inadequate investiga-
tion.
There was also at times lack of cooperation among the
official committees themselves. Friction and crises arose
from' time to time, which were only sitopped short of
scandal. They were the consequence either of assumption
of authority upon the part of the under-committees, of in-
effectiveness of leadership, or of unfamiliarity with the
principles of relief. There w^ere also' other problems, some
of which it may be useful ito note!. One of these was the
problem of the wisest use of local leaders who knew and
could interpret the local point of view and method of
doing things. Another that of the absorption of volun-
teers, many of whom could not be expected to understand
the nature of scientific relief service.
A third great contribution of social service was that of
education in the principles of disaster relief. It was the
problem! of getting the idea of social conservation under-
stood and established in a community which had not given
the subject any thought,, and which was quite unfamiliar
with the ideals and purposes in view. This was the cause
of much delaying of plans, overlapping in giving relief, and
giving without substantial inquiry. It explained also the
reason for the abundant criticism which arose. When
criticism came there was, consequently, no well-informed
body of public opinion to which to anchor the* committee's
work.
Educational effort on this subject may be said to have
begun with a masterful presentation of the nature of re-
habitation at the meeting of the managing committee six
8^] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY 85
days after the disaster. Here was set forth and illustrated
the kind of service required and the desirability of such
work was at once recognized and inaugurated. Thus the
idea of rehabilitation filtered through toi the vario^us depart-
ments. Trained leaders imparted it to the untrained volun-
teers. Church, school and club caught something of its
spirit and one of the permanent social results of the disaster
remains in the partial socialization of institutions. It was
this original absence of socialization, this lack of under-
standing of the true nature of disaster psycholo'gy and of
the accepted mi^thods of relief that at first made the com-
munity so utterly dependent upon the visiting social workers.
It may be safely concluded as a fundamental principle that
the self-dependence of a community in adversity is furthered
by the socialization of existing institutions.
The principles of disaster relief cover three stages, first,
that of the emergency period; second, that oif the period of
transition; and third, that of rehabilitation. These prin-
ciples in order of application may be thus briefly sum-
marized :
1. The coordination of all the relief agencies arising, into
one central relief service.
2. The directing of relief funds from all sources to one
bonded finance committee.
3. The establishment of a temporary com^mittee only, at
first, — the more permanent organization to await the counsel
of specialists in disaster relief, an early call having been sent
for experienced workers.
4. The avoidance of, or the early abolition oif mass
treatment, e. g. bread lines, food depots, etc., as detrimental
to a psychology of helpfulness and as calculated tO' delay
a return to self-support.
5. The issuing of orders for supplies on local merchants
to follow mass-provisioning.
86 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [86
6. The establishment of a policy of renewable cash grants
for short periods until temporary aid is discontinued.
7. Continuance of relief upon a temporary basis until
all claimants are registered and the aggregate of available
aid ascertained, and the needs, resources and potentialities of
self-help studied.
8. An early effort to influence public opinion as to the
wisdom of careful policies and critical supervision.
9. The famiily tO' be considered the unit of treatment.^
10. A substitution of local workers wherever wise, and
the use of local leaders in responsible positions.
11. The publication of a report, including a critical survey
of policies and methods employed, and a discriminating re-
cord of the social results arising therefrom, the mistakes
made and other information of value for future emergencies.
This report in justice to contributors to include a financial
statement.
The fourth great service rendered was that of the estab-
lishment of rehabilitation policies and methods. The work
of organizing for rehabilitation, as noted above, did not begin
until the sixth day after the disaster. On the eighteenth of
December the first chairman was appointed. There fol-
lowed a developmental period during which little progress
was made, save in the familiarizing oi committees with the
object of rehabilitation. " The object of rehabilitation "
says J. Byron Deacon " is to assist families to recover from
the dislocation induced by the disaster, and to regain their
accustomed social and economic status. Emergency aid
takes into account only present needs; rehabilitation looks
to future welfare." ^ This was the purpose constantly kept
1 " During the emergency stage of relief the people are dealt with in
large groups with little attention to the special needs of individuals . . .
in the rehabilitation stage the family or the individual becomes the unit
of consideration." — (Bicknell, E. P., "Disaster Relief and its Problems,"
National Conference of Charities and Corrections, sess. xxxvi, 1909,
p. 12.)
2 Deacon, J. Byron, Disasters (N. Y., 1918), ch. v, p. 137.
Sy] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY 8/
in view. The division of work indicates the nature of the
task attempted. The division provided for an advisor, a
chief of staff, a supervisor of home visitors, a bureau of
application and registration, an emergency department, a
department of medical social service and a visitor in
children's work. Later a children's sub-committee was in-
cluded.
There was first the record and registration made and
verified of all the sufferers and those in need. Over six
thousand names of registratits resulted. Five districts or
divisional areas were arranged for convenience and thorough-
ness of administration. One of these covered all cases
outside of the city itself.^ In charge of each district was
a supervisor, and under the supervisor the various depart-
ment heads. Trained workers were drawn into the service
and their work and that of the volunteer visitors was
directed by capable supervisors. The administration of re-
lief was put upon a discriminating " case system'."
There were four important phases in which the work
developed; the work of general rehabilitation, the medical
social work, the children's problem: and the problem of the
blind.
The general rehabilitation service was carried on with
varied success. It secured valuable intelligence for all com-
mittees and gradually increased in working power and ef-
ficiency. How many were put upon their f ee(t again through
its kindly counsel and careful cooperation cannot be esti-
mated or told in figures.
The problem of medical social service is to learn the
social condition of the patient, and to relate that knowledge!
^ The town of Dartmouth on the Eastern side of Halifax harbor also
suffered very seriously in the explosion. It had its own relief organi-
zation under the very capable chairmanship of ex-mayor A. C. John-
stone. The nature of the relief work there did not differ essentially
from that in Halifax.
88 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [88
to his imedical condition, in order that restoration to heahh
and return to normal family and commu'nity relationships
shall go hand in hand. A division of medical social service
became active a week after the disaster, its workers becom-
ing attached to the several emergency hospitals within the
city itself and those established in nearby towns. It had
as well a working relationship with the military and the
permanent Halifax hospitals. Three thousatLd patients
were cared for in twelve Halifax hospitals alone. Trained
medical social workers interviewed eight hundred. The
one question to which they sought an answer was : " How
shall these patients be brought back again as fully as possibli^
into normal lives and relationships. ? " Having obtained
an answer as best they could, the effort was made to help
and relieve to the fullest extent that service and science
made possible.
The contribution of medical social service was two-fold,
immediate assistance and education. By the latter service^
which represents the more permanent value to the com-
munity, very valuable information and guidance was given
to the Halifax Medical Society and the children's and nurs-
ing interests. The improvements resulting from these ef~
forts cannot fail to make " follow-up " and " after-care "'
important considerations in the public health a:nd dispensary
work of the future.
Immediate assistance was given by the medical social
service in six ways :
1. Arranging for clothing and shelter prior to discharge
from hospital.
2. Interviews to understand medical social needs.
3. Arranging about eye problems with the committee on
the blind, children's problems with the children's com-
mittee, family problems with the rehabilitation com-
mittee, etc.
89] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY 89
4. Making a census of the handicapped, and classifying
the returns.
5. Placing responsibility for follow-up and after-care.
6. Intensive case work where social problems involved a
medical situation.
Dr. M. M. Davis, Jr. Director of the Boston Dispeinsary,
writes of the medical social service as follows :
It may well be concluded that no organization or " unit "
formed to deal with a flood, fire or explosion or disaster, can
hereafter be regarded as complete unless in addition to doctors,
nurses, relief workers and administrators there is also a due
proportion of trained medical social workers. If twelve years
ago medical social service received its baptism, Halifax has
been its confirmation day.^
The children's service was thorough, as it should have
been. If the measure of success in disaster relief is the
treatment which the children receive, Halifax relief was
above reproach. The children's laws of the province are
carefully drawn and adequate, the Superinttendent of
Neglected and Delinquenit Children is a man of singular
ability and has wide powers. He became chairman of a
strong children's comm;ittee with which were associated,
besides representatives O'f the children's institutions, two
child-welfare workers of high reputation. This committee
came in contact with upwards of five hundred families,
including more than fifteen; hundred children. Their
work dealt with the special problems listed below. Mond
permanent supervision was assimiied by the Government
Commission about five months after the disaster. The
modem principle of the widest possible child-placing was
encouraged, the eflFort being to keep children with parents
1 Davis, Michael M., Jr., " Medical Social Service in a Disaster,"
Survey, vol. xxxix, no. 25 (March 2^, 1918), p. 675.
go CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [go
and wherever necessary to subsidize familes rather than in-
stitutions.
The work of the children's committee consisted of
1. Getting urgent temporary repairs made to existing
children's institutions.
2. Investigating cases to ascertain if children were in
proper custody and receiving proper care.
3. Procuring necessary articles of clothing, etc, for
children.
4. Hunting for " missing " children, identifying *' un-
claimed " children, and restoring children (to their
parents.
5. Interviewing hundreds of people who were: (a) hun-
ting for lost children; (b) wishing to adopt home-
less children; (c) arranging for the care O'f children.
6. Attending to a large correspondence, mostly regard-
ing the adoption of children, for which upwards of a
thousand applications were received.
7. Arranging for and supervising the transfer of children
from hospitals, shelters, etc., the committee in most
cases having sent some one to accompany the children.
8. Arranging for temporary maintenance, permanent
care, pensiofns and compensations or allowances for
children, including the finding of permanent homes.
9. Locating and referring to the proper agencies a number
of wounded children.
10. Getting possession of children unlawfully taken pos^
session of by improper persons.
11. Arranging for the proper guardianship of certain
children.^
The problem of the blind, was a special feature of the
Halifax disaster. Blindness frequently resulted from the
1 Blois, Ernest H., Report of Superintendent of Neglected and Delin-
quent Children (Halifax, 1918), p. no.
91 ] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY 91
blizzard of glass which caused so great a percentage of the
wounds. In large proportion the wounded were women who
were engaged in their household duties. The rehabilitation
of the blind presented problemis of care and retraining upon
which was concentrated the skill of three superintendents of
important institutions for the blind as well as other special-
ists and workers. The presence in Halifax of a school for
the blind with a capable president facilitated greatly an
early grappling with the problem. The contributions of
the social workers were chiefly of the character already
indicated such as that of general medical social service.
There were reported on March first, six hundred and thirty-
three registrants/ but owing to the difficulties of registra-
tion this figure remains inexact.
Rehabilitation "takes into account the feelings as well
as the material requirements of the bereaved families." An
additional phase for social workers is therefore mortuary
service. Here is required an exceedingly delicate ministry
for which few are qualified. It includes quiet cooperation
in the painful process of identification, a sympathetic care
for those who succumb to shock or grief, and helpful direc-
tion regarding the necessary steps to be taken, in interment.
At Halifax this presented a remarkable opportunity for
service, and an experienced Young Women's Christian As-
sociation worker from Toronto attended in such capacity.
There is still another secondary phase which must be re-
ferred to as not being without social and moral results, —
that of relief of animals. For the sheltering of homeless
animials, the dressing of wounds, and the humane dispatch
of the badly injured, specially designated gifts had been re-
ceived. This work received the attention of the Society
for the Prevention of Cruelty.
It will be useful as reference data to present here the
1 Fraser, Sir Frederick, Report of.
92 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [92
nature Oif the criticism to which careful supervision gave
rise. It was of the most trenchant character, and it cen-
tered about the alleged over-emphasis which seemed to be
placed on system ^ and deltailed investigations inflicted
upon persons of whom many were still suffering from de-
privation and from' shock, and who were unused to- the
cross-examination methods of expert social diagnosticians.
Often the thoroughness of the records seemed to the sufferers
to be the more emphasized part of the proceedings. When
all classes of people found themselves in need, there were
naturally many who deeply resented being treated so palpably
as " cases." But theirs was a choice which left but little
regard for personal wishes or sensibilities. It is regrettable
however to have tO' say that the cause of social service
did not receive in the community the much larger repute
which its magnificent work justified, chiefly because the in-
numerable " typewriters, card catalogues, involved indexes,
and multifarious office equipment " ^ were not made less
obtrhjsive. The merest touch of "cold professionalism"
soon became fuel for the burning disapproval which spread
through the city regarding the methods of relief.® Letters
to the press gave vent to the indignation of the sufferers.
One of the judges of the Supreme Court was as outspoken as
anyone. In criticizing the food-distribution system he
wrote very plainly of the " overdose of business efficiency
and social service pedantry." Why should needy families
1 The reader may contrast with this the early days of the reHef at the
Johnstown flood " where two windows were set apart from which cloth-
ing and boots were being thrown over the heads of the crowd, and
those having the longest arms and the stoutest backs seemed tO' be getting
the most of it"; and where almoners passed through the streets handing
" ten dollar bills to everyone whom they met."
2 Johnstone, Dwight, The Tragedy of Halifax (in MS.).
3 There was however no definite organization of the dissatisfied as
actually took place at the Slocum Disaster.
93] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY 93
be required, he asked, to go through a personal visit and
reexamination at the office every week, before receiving a
renewal order for food. Such things were not easily un-
derstood or explained. It became increasingly felt that such
discriminating and tardy administration of provisions was
not the will of the innumerable donors who so spontaneously
forwarded the generous aid. It was not, so the criticism
ran, for the committee to detain and delay the needy re-
cipients for the mere sake of preventing duplication and for
the sake of the niceties of case records. At a public meet-
ing in Wards Five and Six, it was charged that " too much
red tape had been insisted upon by those in charge of the
rehef and in consequence of this and other objectionable
features of management, there had been many cases of hard-
ship and much unnecessary suffering."
As to the justice of this it has been already indicated that
criticism was inevitable because there existed no well-
grounded body of public opinion to- which could be an-
chored the wisdom of sound and thorough social methods.
The passing of time has reenforced the rightness of the
course taken, and not a few former critics would now*
be ready to condemn the methods used as not having been
radical enough. Still there was an element of justice in
what was said, and social workers of the future when
thrown into a similar situation should curtain their machine
ery a little closer, at least until the community can realize the
principles which organization must conserve.
The principle on which rigid procedure is justified is
based upon disaster psychology itself, and is the fruit of a
long series of trials and errors. On the first few days after
disaster the finer sensibilities of human nature appear. Men
and women say " others have lost more, we will get on with
a minimum of help." About the fifth day when the poign-
ancy of the horrors has passed and the dead are buried,
94 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [94
these saime people suddenly discover that there are
thousands of dollars available. Then another aspect of
human nature comes into evidence. Every device is utilized
by each to out-distance fthe other in the scramble. Thena
has not been a single disaster where this state of mind has
not shown itself. The way to deal with it without com-
plete records as yet has not been suggested. The only way
a comimittee can protect itself against disgruntled criticism
is to know what it is doing. This is the justification of
rigid desk procedure. It is a way to detect and to defeat
imposture; though it serves also many other purposes.
It was not, however, all adverse criticism which developed
at Halifax. There were many who were able to see the
beneficent purpose behind the careful service, and as months
passed on the value of this experienced administration came
to be more generally realized. Indeed
so large a place did the Social Service workers eventually fill
in the community that many reestablished families begged for
the continuance of the department's supervision even though
its aid was no longer required. No greater testimony to the
value of this rehabilitation work could be given.^
When on January twenty-first the Federal Relief Comn
mission took charge of the entire system, it may be said that
there was a change not only of hands, but of policy as well.
The large amounts made available by the Imperial and
Domiinion governments and by public subscription made it
possible to substitute for rehabilitation the principle of
modified restitution. This change of policy the govern-
ment aidopted because of the conviction upon the part
of the people that they were suffering from the vicis-
situdes of war, and that full restoration was in law and
equity of national obligation. The ste^ is of special social
1 Johnstone, op. cit.
95] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY 95
significance for Halifax is the first instance where on any
large scale ^ the principle of restitution became the guide,
rather than that of rehabilitation. This principle of inh-
demnity
implies the reinstatement of the beneficiary as nearly as possible
into the position from which he was hurled by the calamity
which has befallen him. It implies that to the householder shall
be given the use of a house, to the mechanic his tools, to the
family its household furniture. For the community as" a whole
it means a speedy restoration of such economical and industrial
activities as have been temporarily suspended, the rebuilding of
bridges, the reopening of streets, the reestablishment of banks,
business houses, churches, schools. It requires that protection
shall be given the defenseless, food and shelter to the homeless,
suitable guardianship to the orphan and as nearly as possible
normal social and industrial conditions to all.^
It must be made clear that while in no case was the Halifax
policy denominated restitution, but rather " generous relief,"
in actual practice a large proportion of claims were verified
and paid on a percentage basis of the loss suffered, rather
than that of ascertained need. The Commlission was granted
power to " pay in full all personal property and real estate
claims duly established to an amount not exceeding five
thousand dollars. And while in case of the larger claims of
churches, schools, business properties and manufacturing
establishments, and the property of the more prosperous!
classes, there was a policy of just and adequate relief
declared, the agitation continued and continues that '* every
dollar of loss shall be paid in full."
Of such a policy in disaster relief Deacon writes: " It is
* Both in Chicago and Johnstown many families were placed in a
position practically as good as that which they had occupied before.
Carnegie once completely reimbursed the sufferers from a bank failure.
• iDevine, Edward T., Principles of Relief (N. Y., 1904), pt. iv,.p. 462.
96 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [96
not the policy of disaster relief to employ its funds in re-
storing losses and compensating for death or perslonal
injury." Commenting on this statemeint John R. Moors
says: " It is interesting to note that at Halifax, the latest
scene of serious disaster, such full compensation is in-
tended."^
What were the social results of this policy? This ques-
tion is one of no less interest to the community itself than
ito the student of sociology. It is perhaps too early for
adequate examination and comparison with the policy
which formerly held sway. While still a vital question
there are observers who have grown dubious, if not of res-
titution certainly of the lump-sum method of restoration.^
They assert that for many it proved simply a lesson in ex-
travagance and did not safeguard the economic future of
the recipients. Unused to carrying all their worldly goods
in their vest pockets, these same pockets became empty
again with uncommon rapidity. Victrolas, silk shirts and
furbelows mulftiplied. Merchants' trade grew brisk with
" explosion money." There seemed t6 be a temporary ex-
change of positions by the social classes. The following
statement made by one closely associated with social con-
ditions in Halifax and written over two years after the
disaster, shows only too well the danger involved in the
application of such a principle. After referring to " the
spirit of passive criticism directed chiefly against the few
who have borne the burden of restoration " the statement
continues :
The individuals who after all make up a community have
been blinded to the bigger interests by their own individual ma-
^ Moors, John F., Book Review, Survey, vol. xxxix, no. 17 (Jan. 26,
1918), p. 472.
2 The courts of small claims devoted ten minutes to each case. The
amount awarded was paid on the day the case was heard.
^7] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY 97
terial losses, and the idea of material compensation on a dollar
for dollar basis. As some of us earlier foresaw, the disaster
wrought much moral damage, for which no " claims " were
even presented, even by those to whom we might look for
special moral teaching in such an experience. In the course
of our work we come daily upon evidences of this condition
lingering in our midst.
Upon the whole disaster-study inclines to the unwisdom
•of " the disposition to proceed as though the relief committee
were a compensation board or an insurance society, and to
indemnify for loss." But as already said it is early to ap-
praise. What in ordinary times might be condemned might
conceivably under the abnormal conditions of war be less
morally dangeroius. The system may have been at fault
and not the principle.^ Partly for reasons connected with
the war it was desired to conclude the business with dispatch,
and not to set up a banking house or a training school in
thrift. There remains also the final test, the residuum of
nelief, the num^ber of those who will remain permanently
upon the charity list of the community. Will it be said of
Halifax as formerly of Johnstown, that " probably so large
a sum never passed into a community of equal size with so
little danger to the personal character of the citizens and so
complete an absence of any pauperizing or demoralizing in-
fluences?"
The lessons which come out of this experience at Halifax:
may easily be sumimarized.
1. The socialization of all communities should be pro-
moted if for no other reason than for protection.
2. More technical methods of coordination are desirable.
3. To display the tnachinery of organization is unwise.
* The policy to be pursued in disaster relief cannot yet be finally
stated. It may ultimately be found necessary to distinguish between the
loss of property socially owned, and that of private ownership.
gS CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [98
4. The supervision of voluntary services should be in the
hands of one vocationally trained for the purpose.
5. Further consideration is required as to the policy of
restitution and its administration.
6. The wisdom should be considered of establishing a
secret relief distribution service, such as fraternal societies
conduct fof those who though in need will not publicly;
accept assistance.
7. The necessity of using trained searchers for the dead,
who will note the precise spot where bodies are recovered,
the centralization of all morgue service, the use of metal
tags instead of paper, the sterilization and preservation of
clothing and effects for purposes of identification, and in
addition the development of a morgue social service with
training and qualifications of a special character.
8. The complete organization of a social relief reserve
with members beforehand definitely assigned to special
•tasks, with requisite printed supplies in readiness would
render the most effective social economy in emergency.
This reserve should be trained in the general organization of
shelter, food and clothing, in the shaping of a policy of
general rehabilitation, in medical social service, in children's
work and in the use of volunteers.
To answer the requirements of what could be called in
any sense a sociological treatment of the disaster, the
foregoing chapter on the contribution of social service
could with difficulty be omitted. Social service introduces
a relatively new element of leadership and control upon
which disaster sufferers of the future may rely and which
assures to any community the presence of those who have
special skill in dealing with crises. The " relation of the
great man to the crisis is indeed one of the most important
points in the problem of progress " ^ in catastrophe. The^
1 Thomas, op. cit., p. 19.
gg] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL ECONOMY gg
subject also assumes special importatLce in the development
of the thesis itself. No accounting for social changes
which may hereafter be enumerated can be accurately under-
taken without full consideration of the major influences
which were present. Thus by elimination' we may be able
to better gauge the strength of the factor oif catastrophe
itself. The place oi government and other social factors,
however, has yet to be discussed.^
^ The author regrets that it has been necessary to omit special mention
of the many institutions, societies and voluntary agencies, which were
actively engaged in the relief work, and to confine the chapter to the
principles employed by those mainly responsible for relief and ad-
ministration.
CHAPTER VI
Catastrophe and Social Legislation
Governmental agencies in catastrophe — What seems to be expected of
governmient^s — ^What they actually do — ^Social legislation — A per-
manent contribution.
We have thus far been tracing certain of the major in-
fluence which are brought to bear upon a community when,
after having been overtaken by catastrophe, it is settHng
back into its formier habitistic channels, — channels which
not even catastrophe can altogether efface. Some of these
influences are intra-communol an/d self -generating, such,
as the reconstructive impulses already examined. Others
are ultra-communal, such as those vigorous social forces
which sweep in upon a disaster city with the suddenness of
catastrophe itself.
There is a further influence which is of a community yet
in a sense not of it alone, but of all communities — govern-
ment— that institution of society which expresses its will by
legislation, a will which may or may not be the will of the
community concerned. And because legislative action is
responsible action, and precedent-setting action, it is. apt to
be deliberative action. Perhaps this is especially true of
the new and less familiar field of social legislation. While
it may be that the laJtest group tO' function effectively at
Halifax was government, social legislation when forth-
coming contributed an important and deciding influence,
and was in turn itself enriched by the calamity.
The boundaries of social legislation are still in the mak-
lOO [lOO
lOi] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL LEGISLATION loi
itig and daily enclosing a wider and wider field. But not
all governments are sympathetic with this process. There
are two standards of legislation — the one conserves above
all things rhe rights and privileges of the individual, the
other considers first the community as a whole. The
superiority of the new ideals of legislation rests here, that
it is the general interest which is primarily consulted and
becomes the norm:, rather than the rights oi the individual
citizen. Progress in legislation includes its extension into
all the affairs of life, retaining as much as may be the liberty
of the individual while progressively establishing the in-
terests of all.^ Its evolution is traceable from the first poor
laws, all down the long succeeding line of those dealing with
education, health, labor and recreation. However much
agreement or disagreement there may be and is as to the
wisdom of this imiutable sphere of ameliorative legislation,
changing just as one ideal or the other happens to be in the
ascendancy, there is at least no doubt as to the duty of the
government to protect and safeguard its citizens.
The one duty of the state, that all citizens, except the
philosophical anarchists, admit, is the obligation to safeguard,
the commonwealth by repelling invasion and keeping the
domestic peace. To discharge this duty it is necessary to
maintain a police force and a militia, and a naval establishment.
Such dissent from this proposition as we hear now and then
is negligible for practical purposes.^
In this duty all governments alike share, be they imperial,
federal, provincial or municipal, according to their respec-
tive powers.
At Halifax authoritative control following the disaster
was not wholly municipal or wholly martial, but rather art
1 Lindsay, Samuel M., Unpublished Lectures on Social Legislation.
^Giddings, Franklin H., The Responsible State (N. Y., 1918), ch. iv,
p. 81.
I02 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [102
admixture of authorities. Policeman and soldier joined
bands as agents of general protection. This service govern-
ment did and did at once.
One of the activities of the disaster relief first takaa ^ was
that by the Lieutenant-Governor of the Province of Nova
Scotia, when he sent to the Chief of Police of Halifax the
following order:
You are hereby authorized to commandeer and make use of
any vehicle of any kind that you find necessary for the purpose
of removing the injured and the dead of this city.
The service of the police of Halifax was highly com-
mendable. They worked for long periods with little rest
to maintain public peace and order. The splendid service
of the King's soldiers and sailors has already been con-
sidered. They were first and foremost in the work of
rescue and of warning. Military orders to vacate the North
End district as a precautionary measure followed hard upon'
the explosion. Military orders permitted the people to
return. Within a few hours after the disaster the military
established a cordon around the devastated district which
no one was allowed to pass without an order, which citizens
having busineiss obtained at the City Hall. This was to
prevent looting as well as tO' facilitate the search for the
wounded pinned under the debris, and tO' permit the re-
moval of the bodies of the killed. The burned and devastated
area was policed by the tmiilitary for about two months with
the concurrence of civic authority.
But catastrophe calls for much more than- protection. It
calls for a procedure, a guidance, a paternal care, and it
c^lls for it at once. If we ask whether it be the function of
government to take the foremost step of leadership in this
1 iReference has already been made to the good work of the Govern-
ment railroad officials m the quick restoration of service.
I03] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL LEGISLATION 103
care, the question is one for Political Science. If we ask
the more sociological question whether governments actually
and always do so, the answer is unhesitatingly — they do not.
Says Cooley : " Like Other phases of organization, govern-
ment is mierely one way of doing things, fitted by its character
for doing some things, and unfitted for doing others." ^
This proved one of the things for which it was unfitted.
Not one of the governmental authorities, civic, pro-
vincial, or federal, at once assumed and held authoritatively
and continuously the relief leadership. Indeed it is a
peculiar commentary that they were scarcely thought of as
likely immediately to do so. It should be said, however,
that the Deputy-mayor — ^the Mayor being absent from the
city — was very active personally. While one of the con-
trollers was himself replacing the dead fire-chief, the De-
puty-mayor called an emergency meeting of citizens On the
morning of the disaster, and another at three in the after-
noon to consider what to do. This meeting of citizens was
presided over by the Lieutenant-Governor, and at it, as al-
ready noticed, a beginning in relief organization was made.
The committees, it will be remembered, were afterwards
reformed upon a new basis on the advice of the American
unit. But no civic resources were pledged to the people
as was done at the Chicago fire. No moneys were then or
subsequently appropriated. The Board of Health did not
assert or assume the leadership in the unprecedented situa-
tion. The City Hall was indeed set up as the relief center
temporarily, but the advice to remove it elsewhere was not
successfully opposed. How little civic authority was re-
tained under the disaster circumstances is evidenced by theJ
following complaint. The Board of Control which was
then the legal representative body of the city had no member
1 Cooley, 'Chfrles H., Social Organization (N. Y., 1912), ch. xxxv,
p. 403.
104 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [104
on the executive committee of the disaster admiinistration:
One of these controllers publicly criticised the method of
the Citizens' Committee as autocratic. He " almost had to
have a page to reach the Commiittee as representative of the
Board of Control." When the cabinet ministers from
Ottawa were sitting in session in the legislative council
room, and giving a hearing to a representative public gather-
ing, the Mayor entened a complaint that the City Council
and Corporation had been ignored by the acting committees.
The Citizen's Committee exercised the general control.
They were entrusted with the special grants and the civic
authorities, Board of Health, police, etc., so ids as emer-
gency matters went, cooperated with them. But the various
civic officers were not idle. No one was idle at Halifax.
They were occupied with the rehabilitation of the various
departments at City Hall and with individual programs
of relief. What the civic governmient continued tO' do
officially was rather in the way of providing the stiff
formality of proclamation to the carefully weighed sug-
gestions of the Citizens' Committee. Several of these pro-
clamations were issued. Among them was one urging all
people excepting those on relief work or upon especially
argent business to stay away from Halifax for two weeks.
Another proclamation was a warning to merchants with re-
gard to demanding exorbitant prices. Over the Mayor's
signature went out the nationrwide appeal for aid that " al
sorely afflicted people should be provided with clothing and
food." The subsequent time, thought and help which City
Hall contributed is of less sociological importance to this
study. It is sufficient if we have faithfully described mun-
cipal aid ini disaster as falling under the general category
of service, rather than direction.^
1 This is not to be considered as without exception in catastrophies.
A special Citizens' Committee led the operations at the Paterson fire
105] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL LEGISLATION 105
Turning briefly to the provincial and federal spheres of
activity in disaster we note that no special session of the
provincial legislature was called, as was done by the Gover-
nor of Illinois after the calamity which overtook Chicago in
1 87 1. Yet when the leg:islature of Nova Scotia convened
a fully considered and detailed act was passed incorporating
the Halifax Relief Commission, and designating and defin-
ing its powers/ The several articles defined its establish-
ment as a rehabilitation and reconstruction committee, a
town-planning board, as well as its powers of expropriation,
its relationship to the city charter, certain parts of which
it could amend or repeal; its powers to enforce attendance
at its courts and boards ; its relationship to the Workmen'si
Compensation Act and toi the insurance problem^. Besides,
the Commission was also invested with full and adequate
discretion regarding schools, churches and business pro-
perties.
Some of the disaster legislative powers and procedures
are of special interest to social legislation. Among these
were the power to repair, rebuild or restore buildings, the
power to repair and carry out a town-planning scheme, the
power to amend, repeal, alter or add to provisions in the city
charter, the automatic assumption of rights of owner to
insure to the extent of the amount expended in repair, and
the automatic cancellation of workmen's compensation
claims. The act incorporating the commission with powers
to make investigation, and administer all funds and pro-
peirties constitutes Chapter VI of the year 191 8. Thd
local legislature also passed Chapter XVIII authorizing the
and flood, but at the Chicago fire the City government took immediate
and responsible action. This was also the case at Baltimore when the
Mayor was the "key to the situation." It should however be added
that both at Halifax and Dartmouth the chairmen of the Citizens'
Committees were ex-mayors.
1 An Act to Incorporate the Halifax Relief Commission, Halifax, 1918.
I06 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [io6
provincial loan of one hundred thousand dodlars for the
benefit of the sufferers ; and Chapter XIX authorizing cities,
towns and (municipalities to contribute for the relief of
sufferers.
The action of Premier Borden oif Canada for prompti-
tude and wisdom is comparable to that of President Harrison
of the United States at the time of the Johnstown flood.
The Canadian Premier at the time of the disaster was in
Prince Edward Island, an island province lying near Nova
Scotia. He at once left for Halifax and arrived the fol-
lowing day. He immediately placed resources from the
Federal government at the disposal of the local authorities
to assist them in coping with the situation. The third day
after the disaster he attended an important meeting regard-
ing the harbor, and strengthened greatly the morale of the
city by assuring a complete and rapid restoration of the
harbor. Following the Premier came the Minister of Public
Works and he too gave much admiinistrative assistance.
Then came five members of the Federal Cabinet, each an-
nouncing such programis of restoration as to give the com-
munity new heart and inspiration. Amiong these announce-
ments was that of the establishment of a large ship-building
plant upon the explosion area. The Canadian government
had already as its. lirst act made a grant of one million
dollars, toward the sufferers' relief. It was then forcibly
urged upon the government that it assume a responsibility
towards Halifax such as the British government accepts in
" its policy of holding itself responsible for loss and damage
by air-raids and explosions." Public opinion seemed to
demand that the work of restoration and reparation be un-
dertaken by the government of Canada as a national en-
terprise. The government while disclaiming all legal liability,
acceded to the request. On January twenty-first there was
announced the formation of a Federal Halifax Relief Com-
I07] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL LEGISLATION joy
mission to take over the whole work of rehabilitation and
reconstruction, — an a"nnouncement which brought a feel-
ing of relief to the already discouraged workers.
Another interesting contrast may be noted in the fact that
while the Governor of Ohio appointed the Ohio Flood Com-
mission to receive and administer relief funds and supplies,
the Halifax Relief Commission was appointed by the
Governor-General of Canada in Council. This was done
under the " Enquiries Act of Canada, beiing Chapter CIV
of the Revised Statutes of Canada, 1906, and under the
War Measures Act, 19 14, being Chapter II of the Acts of
Canada for the year 19 14." The Federal grant was later
increased to five million dollars, and subsequently to
eighteen millions.
There sho^uld also be here recorded the timiely succour
afforded by the Imperial Government at Westminster. Fol-
lowing the King's gracious cable of sympathy, the sum of
five million dollars was voted by the British Government to
the relief of Halifax. The King's words were:
Most deeply regret to hear of serious explosion at Halifax
resulting in great loss of life and property. Please convey to
the people of Halifax, where I have spent so many happy
times, my true sympathy in this grievous calamity.
Reference has already been made to the policy to which
the Commiis'sion was committed. This policy may be
more exactly stated by an extract from the act incorporat-
ing the commdssiion :
Whereas, the said Halifax Relief Commission as hereto-
fore constituted has recommended to the Governor-General
of Canada in Council, that reasonable compensation or allow-
ance should be made to persons injured in or by reason of
the said disaster and the dependents of persons killed or in-
jured in or by reason of the said disaster and the Governor-
Io8 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [log
General of Canada in Council has been pleased to adopt said
recommendation; etc.
In the proivision of material assistance, the strengthening
of morale and the eventual establishment of a Relief Com'-
miission, government may be said to have contributed an
important and deciding influence in the reorganiization of
the community of Halifax and its restoratioo to normal
conditions.
Not only must social legislation be acknowledged to
have had a very direct determining influence upon what-
ever picture of the community is subsequently drawn,
but social legislation itself was enriched by the catastrophe.
The association of catastrophe with progress in social legis-
lation has already been noticed in our introduction, the mass
of facts in support of which no writer has; yet co^mipiled. In
this introduction we noted how on^ many occasions disasters
have been the preceding reagents in effecfing legislation of
permanent social value. It is instanced that city-planning
in America took its rise from the Chicago fire, that the
origin of labor legislation is traceable to a calamitous fever
at Manchester and that the Titanic disaster precipitated
amendment to the Seamlen's laws.^ It has been said that
" the vast machinery of the Public Health Department in
England has rapidly grown up in consequence of the choleral
visitations in the ttriiddle of the last century ; " ^ and als:a
that public health Work in America practically began with
yellow fever epidemics. Writing of mining disasters, J.
Byron Deacon says in this connection
If it can be said that any circumstance attending such dis-
asters is fortunate, it was that they exercised a profound
1 Parkinson, Thomas I., " Problems growing out of the Titanic
Disaster," Proceedings of the Academy of Political Science, vol. vi, no. i.
2 Ross, Edward A., Foundations of Sociology (N, Y., 1905), ch. viii,
p. 254.
109] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL LEGISLATION 109
influence upon public opinion, to demand new effort and legis-
lation both for the prevention of industrial accidents and for
the more equitable distribution of the burden of individual
loss and community relief which they involved.^
Again E. A. Ross writes :
A permanent extension to the administration of the state
has often dated from a calamity, — a pestilence, a famine, a
murrain, a flood or a tempest — which, paralyzing private
efforts has caused application for state aid.^
The student of social legislation who reads this book will
turn first to this chapter, and ask what permanent legisla-
tion will the future associate with so dire a calamity as that
suffered at Halifax. It may be said that not only has
special disaster legislation of precedent-setting value been
enacted serving in a measure to standardize relief legislative
procedure, but social legislation of wider application and
more general character ensued. And this was along the
line which the student of social law should be led to expect.
As calaimitous epidemics brling forth regulations of sanita-
tion ; as marine disasters foster regulations ensuring greater
safety at sea, it miight well be expected that a great ex-
plosion would bring about regulations controlling the hand-
ling of explosiives. And this is in reality what has oc-
curred. There were approved on the twenty-fifth day of
June, 1 91 9, by the Parliament of Canada, regulations re-
specting the loading and handling of explosives in harbors,
applicable to all public harbors in Canada, to which the pro-
visions of Part XII of the Canada Shipping Act apply ; and
to all other public harbors insofar as the same are not dti-
cortsistent with regtdations alneady or hereafter made ap-
plicable.^ They cover
* Deacon, J. Byron, Disasters (N. Y., 1918), p. 43.
2 Ross, op, cit., p. 253.
• Regulations for the Loading and Handling of Explosives in the
Harbors of Canada (Ottawa, June, 1919).
no CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [no
1. The provision of special areas for berth, for explo-
sives-carriers.
2. Regulations of ship control to be observed in the
navigation in harbors of explosives-laden vessels.
3. Regulations to be observed upon vessels carrying ex-
plosives.
4. Regulations governing the handling of explosives.
" The enactment of these regulatioris " writes the Under-
Secretary of State for Canada ^ " was suggested in large
measure by the Halifax disaster." Had these regulations
been in effect and observed in Halifax Harbor it is hardly
conceivable that the great disaster of 191 7 could have oc-
curred.
It should be borne in mind that the recommendation for
this general legislation of social utility originated with the
Drysdale commission — ^a board of enquiry appointed by the
Federal Government to determine the cause of the disaster
and whose judgment, was issued on February fourth, 191 8.
In Section XHI of this judgment, the following occurs :
that the regulations governing the traffic in Halifax harbor
in force since the war were prepared by competent naval
authorities ; that such traffi: regulations do not specifically deal
with the handling of ships laden with explosives, and we i;ecom-
mend that such competent authority forthwith take up and
make specific regulations dealing with such subject.
We, therefore, conclude that the function of government
in disaster is of primary importance, and that social legisla-
tion when forthcoming constitutes an important and decid-
ing influence and is itself in turn enriched by calamity.
Brought to the test of comparison with observed facts the
statement in the Introduction, that catastrophe is in close
association with progress in social legislation receives abun^
dant justification.
1 In a letter to the author.
CHAPTER VII
Catastrophe and Social Surplus
Mill's explanation of the rapidity with which communities recover
from disaster — The case of San Francisco — The case of Halifax —
Social surplus — The equipmental factors — Correlation of tragedy in
catastrophe with generosity of public responscr^Catastrophe insur-
ance— ^A practical step.
John Stuart Mill offers a very interesting explanation
of what has so often created wonder, the great rapidity with
which countries recover from a state of devastation, the dis-
appearance in a short time of all traces of the mischiefs done
by earthquakes, floods, hurricanes and the ravages of war.^
This " vis medicatrix naturae '' he explains on an economic
principle. All the wealth destroyed was merely the rapid con-
sumption of what had been produced previously, and which
would have in due course been consumed anyway. The rapid
repairs of disasters mainly depends, he says, on whether the
community has been depopulated.
But this is not an all-sufficient explanation, and indeed ap-
lies particularly to counltries which have not been bereft of
the raw materials of industrial machinery. San Franciscd
recovered exceedingly rapidly from her terrible experience
of 1906. Indeed her quick recovery has been called one!
of the wonders of the age, San Francisco was not depop-
ulated. Her actual losses of life were but four himdred and
ninety-eight, and those injured four hundred and fifteen.
1 Mill, John Stuart, Principles of Political Economy (London, 1917),
ch. V, p. 74.
Ill] III
112 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [112
The loss of life on the other hand was about two thousand
lin Halifax, a city of fifty thousand population^ — but one-
eighth that of San FranciscO' — and her list of injured ran
into m'any thousands. And yet the same phenomenon ap-
peared.
There are other factors both social and economic which
must not be omitted from an account of the influences of
recuperation, namely the equipmental and other factors which
produce social surplus. Disaster-stricken communities can-
not survive unless their" surplusenergy exceeds their needs."
They cannot become normal until the social surplus is re-
stored. The social surplus, according to^ Professor Tenney,
is " merely the sum-total of surplus energy existing in the in-
dividuals composing a social group, or immediately available
to such individuals."^ It includes not only "bodily vigor"
but " such material goods also' as are immediately available
for the restoration of depleted bodily vigor." It is not only
physiological, as life energy, and social, as conditions of
knowledge and institutional facilities, but also socio-econ-
omic, as equipment for the maintenance or resltoration of
physiological and social needs. In catastrophe bodily vigor
may have been depleted, and material goods been consumed.
No period of recuperation or rapid gain can ensue unless such
equipment is in some degree replaced and a balance of social
surplus restored. This is the conditio' sine qua non of re-
cuperation, and of the transition from' a pain-economy to a
pleasure-economy,^ after disaster. Certainly the maintenance
of the standard of living demands it. The standard of
living has been defined as the " mode of activity and scale
of comfort which a person has come to regard as indis-
pensable to his happiness and to secure and retain which he
1 Tenney, Alvan A., " Individual and Social Surplus," Popular Science
Monthly, vol. Ixxxii (Dec, 1912), p. 552.
2 Patten, iSimon N., Theory of the Social Forces (Phil., 1896), p. 75.
113] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL SURPLUS 113
is willing to make any reasonable sacrifice." Following
Professor Seager's association of the standard of living with
population, Ithe reduction of population in catastrophe of a
certain character might conceivably operate to automatically
heighten the standard of living, just as the growth of popula-
tion often brings about its fall. But caltastrophe often con-
sumtes great quantities of material goods and brings about
a change in incomes and in occupations.^ Seager notes that :
Actual starvation confronts more rarely those belonging to
the class of manual workers, but for them also under-nutri-
tion is a possibility which prolonged illness or inability to
obtain employment may at any time change into a reality. The
narrow margin which their usual earnings provide above the
bare necessaries of life, coupled with their lack of accumulated
savings, makes them especially liable, when some temporary
calamity reduces their incomes, to sink permanently below the
line of self-support and self-respect^
It must be remembered that at Halifax while the equip-
miental damage was stupendous, still the heart of the down-
town business section remained sound. The banking dis-
trict held together, and the dislocation of business machinery
was less proitracted on that account. To this it is necessary
to add how to a very considerable extent the material
losses were replaced by comimsunities and countries which
not only supplied the city with the material of recuperation
but with men and means as well. Were her own workmen
killed and injured? Glaziers, drivers, repair men and
carpenters came by train-loads bringing their tools, their
^ At San Francisco " after the fire, the proportion of families in the
lower income groups was somewhat larger, and the proportion in the
higher income groups somewhat smaller than before the fire."
(iMotley, James M., San Francisco Relief Survey, New York, 1913,
pt. iv, p. 228.)
'Seager, Henry R., Economics, Briefer Course (N. Y., 1909), ch. xiii,
p. 210.
114 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [114
food and their wages with them. The city's population was
increased by thirty-five hundred workmen, twenity-threet
hundred of whom were registered with the committee at
one time. Was her glass destroyed? Eighty acres of
transparences came for the temporary repairs and had been
placed by January the twenty-first. Were her buildings
gone? Seven million, five hundred thousand feet of lumber
were soon available to house the homeless. Were her
people destitute? Food and clothing were soon stacked
high. Were her citizens bankrupt because of losses ? Fifty
thousand dollars came from Newfoundland, another fifty
thousand from New Zealand, one hundred thousand from
Quebec, one hundred thousand from Montreal, two hundred
and fifty thousand from Australia, five million from Great
Britain. In merchandise, clothing and cash a million came
from Massachusetts. In about fifteen weeks., aside from
the Federal grant, eight millions were contributed. The
total contributions from all sources amounted finally to
twenty-seven million dollars.
Factors such as these must not be omitted in examining
the sociological recuperation of a smitten city. And when
the experience of Halifax is set side by side with the related
experiences of other cities a conclusion may be drawn that
disaster-stricken communities can always count upon public
aid, for the reasons which have already been discussed.
But there is found to be strongly suggested a correlation be-
tween the striking character or magnitude of a disaster and
the generosity of the relief response,^ as there is also with
the immediacy of the appeal. " It is not the facts themselves
which strike the popular imagination " says Le Bon, " but
1 At the time of the tragic Martinique disaster the New York committee
received $80,000 more than it could disburse. (Devine, Edward T.,
The Principles of Relief, N. Y., 1904, pt. iv, ch. vii, p. 468.)
II^] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL SURPLUS 115
the way in which they take place." ^ There have been dis-
asters relatively serious, such as the St. Quentin forest fire,
where repeated appeals met with astonishingly little response!
from the people. " A single great accident *' continues Le
Bon, " will profoundly impress them even though the results
be infinitely less disastrous than those of a hundred small
accidents put together." It was in recognition of this prin-
ciple that " it was decided to transfer the residue of the
amount contributed [after the Triangle fire] to the contingent
fund of the American Red Cross, to be used in disasters,
which in their nature do not evoke so quick or generous
public response, but where the suffering is as grievous." ^
Besides the relation of the tragic in catastrophe to gener-
osity and other expressions of sympathy, the experience at
Halifax suggests also a relationship between the aid fur-
nished by a contributing community and that community's
own previous history in regard to calamity. As an in-
stance may be cited the quick and splendid response which
came from St. John and Campbellton, two New Brunswick
cities with unforgeltable memories of great disasters which
they themselves had suffered. It is also not improbable that
the study of comparative catastrophe would reveal a cor-
relation between the relative amount of aid given and the
distance of those who give. Indeed there are reasons which
suggest that the relationship might be written thus: that
relief in disaster varies inversely as the square of the cost
distance. The association here suggested is given addi-
tional plausibility from the fact that attention to certain
types of news seems to vary according to this principle,
and news notice is no inconsiderable factor in disaster aid.
Enough has been said to make it clear that at the present
*Le Bon, Gustave, The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind (Lon-
don), ch. iii, p. 79.
'Deacon, J. Byron, Disasters (N. Y., 1918), ch. v, p. 120.
1 1 6 CA TASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [ 1 1 6
time, in the absence of any scientific method of socially
ameliorating the consequences of catastrophe, relief is a
fluctuating quantity, and is poorly apportioned from the
point of view of need. While such conditions obtain, dis-
asters must inevitably contribute to the inequalities which
break the hearts of men. It is alas true, that after all our
generosities and philanthropies
many people lose their normal position in the social and
economic scale through earthquakes, tornadoes, floods, droughts,
railway wrecks, fires, and the common accidents of industrial
life. These accidents naturall}' have a vast influence over the
lives of their victims; for they often render people unfit to
struggle along in the rank and file of humanity.^
The only socially defensible way of doing is to spread
the economic results of these disasters over the entire com-
munity in some form of intra-city catastrophe insurance ad-
ministered by the Federal government. This alone will
overcome the irrationality of an inequitable levy upon the
more sympathetic, and the fluctuations of disproportionate
relief. And even beyond this step is there not the possibility
of an international system in which each nation will insure
the other? Certainly at Halifax the aid contributed came
from many nations and tongues. But while we are discus-
sing what ought to be and eventually will be done, one very
practical step remains which may be taken at once. At the
Halifax disaster, we have seen that mwch of the direction
and technical leadership, welcome at it was, and saving the
situation as it did, yet came from without rather than from
within the country. There is no Canadian who will close
these pages without askmg whether this must always be.
May it not be respectfully suggested, as a concluding result
1 Blackmar and Gillin, Outlines of Sociology (N. Y., 1915), pt. iv,
ch. V, p. 402.
117] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL SURPLUS ny
of this situdy, that the Canadian government, take im-
mediate steps to develop a staff of experts, a reserve fund,
and stations of relief strategically located ill' Canada — these
stations to have in their keeping left-over war-material,
such as tents, stores, and other equipment together with re-
cords of available experts who have had experience in dis-
asters and who may be subject to call when emergencies
arise.
And now to return to our thesis, and its special enquiry,
namely, wherein is the specific functioning of catastrophe
an social change? We have thus far concerned ourselves
with the major factors of recuperation, intra-social forces,
social service, and legislaition.
We find it necessary now to add that the socio-economic
constitutes a no less important factor. But the effects may
not stop with mere recuperation. Suppose a city be-
comes in a trice more prosperous and progressive than ever.
Suppose she begins to grow pqpulous with uncommon
rapidity; her bank clearings do* not fail but rather increase;
her industries rebuild and grow in numbers ; new companies
come looking for sites as if dimly conscious that expansion
is at hand! Suppose a city rises Phoenix-like from the
flames, a new and better city, her people more kind, more
charitable, moire compassionate to little children, more con^
siderate of age ! Suppose there come social changes which
alter the conservatism and civic habits of many years —
changes which foster a spirit of public service, and stimulate
civic pride! Then there is clearly some further influence
associated with the day of disaster. Perhaps we shall find
progress innate in catastrophe itself.
CHAPTER VIII
Catastrophe and Social Change
The unchanging Halifax of the years — The causes of social immobiHty —
The new birthday — The indications of change : appearance, expansion
of business, population, political action, city-planning, housing, health,
education, recreation, community spirit — ^Carsten's prophecy.
Halifax has had her fair proportion of tribute in her
time. Kipling has called her " the Warden of the Honor
of the North." Pauline Johnston sings of her pride of
situation. As Edinburgh, "it is a city of many charms;
beautiful for situation, beyond most of the cities of the
world ; vocal with history beyond most, for at every turn of
its streets som'e voice from the past 'comes sounding
through the toon.' " Her public gardens are the envy of
all. Her vistas of the sea are without compare. Her North-
west Armi is a veritable joy. Birds sing in her homes.
Cheery wood-fires burn brightly in her open grates. No
city of her size is more hospitable than she.
But she has always been a city which has never quite
entered into her heritage commercially. Situated where
by nature she might well be great, she has always been
small. Unaimbitious, wealthy ^ and little jealous of the;
more rapidly-growing cities, she has prided herself oni
being a lover of better things. Commerce and industry
were things alien ^ and secular. She devoted herself to
1 Halifax is the wealthiest city per capita in the Dominion of Canada.
2 For years real estate was marketed " quietly." In fact, real property
was in the hands of one or two specialists only.
ii8 [ii8
IIq] catastrophe and social change iig
standards of art, music, learning, religion and the philan-
thropies. Charitable and philanthropic institutions abounded.
She has had her own conservative English ways. She
affected homage to " old families," and to that illusory
element " social prestige." She welcomed each new knight
which the favor of the king conferred, and grew careless
of civic prosperity and growth. She had leaned " too long
upon the army and the navy " and her citizens had become
" anaemic," " lethargic " and standstill ; their " indifference "
and " inertia " were a commonplace. Halifax had been
complacent and academic rather than practical in her out-
look upon the world and her general attitude toward life.
Geographically she suffered by her situation on the
rim of the continent. She experienced not a little ne-
glect and isolation because she was an undeveloped
terminal, and not a junction point. Travellers and com-
mercial men could not visit her en route but only by special
trip.
Again " the government has had altogether too many in-
terests in Halifax for the good of the place." " Govern-
ment-kept towns " are not as a rule " those which have
achieved the greatest prosperity." Halifax as a civil-service
headquarters and a government military depot was perhaps
open to the charge of being at least " self-satisfied."
Valuable acres of non-taxable land have been far from stimu-
lating to civic enterprise.
An historic city too, Halifax fell under the blight of
overmuch looking backward, and sociologically the back look
has been always recognized as the foe of progress. But
she has had a past to be proud of — one which throbs with
incident and interest. Born as a military settlement, she
has been a garrison city and naval station for more than ai
hundred and fifty years. She has been called " the stormy
petrel among the cities — always to the front in troublous
I20 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [120
timjes." She has^ served and suffered in four hard wars.
She has gloried in this wealth of years and storied past.
Her traditions have been traditions of royalty, blue blood,
dashing officers, church parades, parlialmentary ceremonies,
fetes, levees and all the splendor and spirit of old colonial
times. A newspaper has published daily items of a generation
before, and weekly featured a reverie in the past.^ Old in
her years she remained old in her appearance, old in
her ways, and in her loves. She boasted old firms which
have kept their jubilees, old churches wherein was cradled
the religious life of Canada, an old university with a century
of service. 'Each nooni a cannon boomed the mid-day
hour, and like a curfew sounded in the night.
Search where one will, it would be difficult to find
another city which has more completely exhibited the causes
of social immo'bility as set forth by sociology. For there
are, it must be remembered, causes of immobility as well
as factors of social change. They may be geographical
difficulties, or elements more distinctively social — an over-
emphasis of government, discouraging innovation, too' great
fi " volume of suggestion," the drag of *' collective customs
and beliefs," a " traditionalist educational system," the '' in-
heritance of places and functions " tending toi arrest develop-
mfent, "government, law, religion and ceremony, hallowed
by age." ^ All these reenforce the conservative tendencies
in society and preserve the status quo.^
1 The Acadian Recorder, C. C. Blackadar, editor.
' Ross, Edward A., Foundations of Sociology (N. Y., 1905), ch, viii,
p. 197.
^ There are other causes of conservatism. A comparative freedom
from disasters in the past is one. Halifax has suffered few in her
entire history. Indeed the cholera epidemic is the only one of any
consequence. She remained one of the last large wooden cities. Her
sister city, St. John, was stricken by a disastrous fire and stands to-day
safer, more substantial, more progressive in every way.
Again communities are generally conservative in character when a
I2l] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 121
Diagnosis in detail is not essential here. Up to the time of
the disaster Halifax had certainly preserved the status quo.
We need not labor the how and why. Tourists had re-
turned year after year and found her unaltered. " Dear,
dirty old Halifax " they had called her. They had found
business as usual, — old unpainted wooden houses on every
side, unswept chimneys, an antiquated garbage system and
offensive gutters; the best water and the poorest water
system an inspector ever examined ; the purest air but the
most dust-laden in a stormi; an obsolete tramway,^ a
" green market," ox-carts on the main streets, crossings ankle-
deep with mud, a citizenship given, over tO' late rising. In-
stead of making the city they had been " letting it happen."
The "transient, the good-enough, the cheapest possible"
had been the rule of action.
Such has been the unchanging Halifax of the years. But
the old order changeth. The spell of the past is broken.
A change has come over the spirit of her dreams. There are
large percentage are property-holding people. It was one of the sur-
prises of the Halifax catastrophe that so large a number of citizens
were found to own at least in part the homes they lived in.
There are other questions which the sociologist would ask if it were
possible to carry the investigation further. Is the community loath to
disturb the existing relations or to resort to extreme means to achieve
desired ends? Or is it eager to sweep away the old, to indulge in
radical experiment and to try any means that give promise of success?
He would study too the distribution of people relative to their interests.
Is there a majority of those whose experiences are narrow and whose
interests are few? Or is there a majority of those who have long en-
joyed varied experiences and cultivated manifold interests, that yet re-
main harmonious? He studies the character of the choices, decisions,
selections in a people's industry, law-making, educational and religious
undertakings. It is thus that he proceeds in diagnosing a population
as to the degree of conservatism and to discover what the ideal com-
munity should be. — ^Giddings, Franklin H., Inductive Sociology (N. Y.,
1909), p. 178, et seq.
1 Halifax has now one of the best equipped tramway systems to be
found anywhere. There has recently been appropriated the sum of
$200,000 for ;sewers, $150,000 for water, $300,000 for street paving.
122 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [122
signs that a new birthday has come. The twenty-first day
of June was the old Natal Day, kept each year with punc-
tilious regularity. But Halifax is now just beginning to
realize that there was a new nativity, and that it dates f rami
December — ^that fatal Sixth. " Sad as was the day, it
may be the greatest day in the city's history."
Almost instinctively since the disaster Halifax has come to
see the sources of her weakness and of her strength. Her
geographical position which once meant isolation ^ will hence-
forth be her best asset. Just as the geographical expansion
of Europe made the outposts of the Old World the entre-
pots of the New, so the expansion of Canada and of Nova
Scotia — 'the province with the greatest number of natural
resources of any in the Dominion — ^to the newly awakening
city appears full of substantial promise. It will be largely
hers to handle the water-borne commerce of a great country.
Henceforth the ocean will become a link and "not a limit.
World-over connectioms are the certainties of the future,
bound up inevitably with the economic and social solidarity
of nations. Closer to South Am^erica than the United
States, closer tO' South Africa than England, closer to Liver-
pool than New York, Halifax sees and accepts her destiny,
forgets the inconvenience and loss she has undergone and
the many annoyances of blasting and of digging, that the
facilities of her "triple haven" might be multiplied and the
march of progress begin. " The new terminals with their im-
pressive passenger station, will not only be an attractive front
door for Halifax, but will fit her to be one of the great
portals of the Dominion."
There has come upon the city a strange impatience of
unbuilt spaces and untaxed areas sacred for decades to
military barracks and parades. She has urged for some
1 Halifax long felt herself to have been commercially a martyr to
Confederation.
123] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 123
immediate solution, with the result that military property
will be concentrated and many acres released to the city for
its own disposal.
Whether the pendulum' will swing so far as to imperil the
retention of old historic buildings, time-stained walls, and
century-old church-yards is not yet apparent; although sug-
gestions have been made which would have astounded the
Halifax of a generation ago. Certain it is that a period of
orientation is at hand. There is a stirring in the wards and
clubs for progressive administration and modern policies.
" Here as elsewhere the time has now come for clear thinking
and the rearrangement of traditional thought."
Indications of change are already abundant. The first
to note is that of appearance. For illustration may be
quoted an editorial published near the second anniversary of
the explosion:
Halifax has been improving in appearance since the ex-
plosion, exhibiting very sudden changes at particular points.
One almost forgets what the city was like about ten years ago.
Still there is a great deal to be done in the way of improvement
to our streets. The move in the direction of permanent streets
is an excellent one and if carried out as designed will be an
improvement and saving to the city.
The report of the Secretary of the Board of Trade makes
the following reference to the change in appearance of the
city:
One of the pleasing features in reference to both the whole-
sale and retail business of Halifax is the improved condition
of premises over a few years ago ; retail stores are now having
up-to-date and attractive fronts, while wholesalers are im-
proving their show-rooms and thereby increasing their sales.
The Mayor writes regarding the sidewalk improvement :
Some twenty miles of concrete sidewalks to be constructed
124 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [124
are on the order paper to be taken in turn so as to be as uni-
form as possible. This will go a long way toward improving
the appearance of the city.
As to the change in the style of houses the Mayor states:
A pleasing feature of the new construction is the de-
parture from the former square box style of dwelling, also
the method of placing rows of houses exactly in the same
style. Today homelike houses of modern design, set back
from the street with lawns in front are the order of the day —
bungalows are particularly in favor.
Fine new residences are being built, apartment ideas are
spreading, new lights are being tried out, a new tram com-
pany has take^ hold. Indeed one citizen is credited with the
words : "It is almost a sacrilege that Halifax should be so
changed."
The consciousness of change is seen in an altered public
opinion and the beginnings of a new civic outlook. Evidence
of the new note is a statement by ome of the progressive Hali-
fax firms :
Halifax is going to make good. Outside firms are taking
up valuable sites in our business districts. The banks are
increasing their activities. Some of the biggest industries are
coming our way. Surely everything points toward prosperity.
Another feature indicative O'f the changing consciousness,
which has infected a much wider region than Halifax it-
self is the plan no'w making rapid progress for an Old
Home Summer, to be held from June to October, 1924. The
project has already received legislative recognition. An
effort will be made to recall former residents on a scale such
as has never been attempted before. The commiittee an
charge is made up of many prominent citizens and the
" 1924 Club " grows. One may observe still another indica-
125] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 125
tion of the detennination to progress in the recent com-
pletion of a systemi linking-up HaHfax by telephone with
Montreal, Toronto, New York and Chicago.
Indices of business conditions are far from satisfactory,
yet the items used in their computations are the only ones
upon which variations may be even roughly gauged. Roger
Babson puts as the leading considerations: (i) Building
and real estate; (2) bank clearings; (3) business failures.
Other symptomatic facts are postal revenues, tramway re-
ceipts, exports, taxes, interest rates, insurance, wages and
hours, commodity prices, unfilled orders, immigration and
unemplO}^m:erLt. ^
With regard to the first the following statement issued
by the Mayor is significant. He says:
The year 191 9 has been one of exceptional prosperity in
the City of Halifax. It has been a record year for building.
Permits to the approximate value of $5,000,000 have been is-
sued to the engineer's office, the largest amount by far in its
history, the amount being practically ten times that of 191 3, or
the year before the Great War commenced. A part of this only
can be attributed to the terrible explosion of 19 17.
He refers to the great amounc of construction going on in
the western and northwestern parts of the city which were
relatively untouched by the disaster. The Mayor further
states :
It must be remembered that it is only two years since the
devastation caused by the explosion and strangers in the city
have considered it wonderful that we are so far advanced in
building up that portion which only a year ago had not a
house upon it.
The following tabulation gives the building figures ac-
cording to the permits issued at the City Hall. It shows a
remarkable recent increase.
1 Chaddock, Robert E., Unpublished Material.
126 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [126
Building Permits
1910 $471,140
1911 508,836
1912 589775
1913 839,635
1914 874,320
1915 1,066,938
1916 1,177,509
1917 844,079
1918 2,955,406
1919 5,194,806
With regard to real estate the Mayor writes in December
1919
The increase in the seUing values of properties is remark-
able. Business property has taken a jump in value, and it
is difficult to get for business purposes property well situated
unless at very high prices. Property has been known to change
hands within a year at approximately double the amount
originally paid.
The Secretary of the Board of Trade reports :
Real estate has been active, and prices have been obtained
greatly in excess of what properties were valued at in pre-
war days.
In the matter of bank clearings ^ the following table in-
dicates a very considerable change :
Bank Clearings
1910 $95,855,319
1911 87,994,043
1912 100,466,672
1913 105,347,626
1914 100,280,107
1915 104,414,598
1916 125,997,881
1917 '. 151,182,752
1918 216,084,415
1919 241,200,194
^ The reader will of course remember the general inflation of currency.
127] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 127
As to business failures the Secretary says :
Business failures have been few — practically the whole
amount of the liabilities will be made up of one failure,
and it is believed the loss to creditors in this particular case
will be slight.
Additional Indices
Gross Postal Revenue Tramway Receipts (gross)
1910 $114,318 $477,109
1911 119,561 502,399
1912 • 132,097 539,853
1913 140,102 605,933
1914 147,943 645,341
1915 154,499 718,840
1916 167,594 559,513
1917 255,815 '859,667
1918 305,412 998,702
1919 349,507 1^258,503
Among other assurances of the new prosperity and the
beginnings of fresh faith in the city's future is the coming
of new large business interests into the city. Among the
largest construction work is the building of the Halifax
shipyards upon the explosion ground, involving an outlay
of ten millions of dollars. There is the ever-extending
plant of the Imperial Oil Company, which will eventually
make of Halifax a great oil-distribution port. There is the
continuation of the thirty-million-dollar scheme of modem
termiinal facilities, which have been constructed so close to
the ocean that a ship may be out of sight of land within an
hour after casting off from the quay.
In short there has been, as has been said, an " imtpetusi
given to business generally." That the impetus will con-
tinue there is every prospect. Halifax may experience
a temporary wave of depression when such waves are flow-
ing elsewhere. But today there are fewer doubters and more
believers. The day of new elevators, new hotels, harbor-
128 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [128
bridges and electric trains is not very far away. The
prophecy of Samuel Cunard made in 1840 — when he in-
augurated the first Trans-Atlantic line — that " Halifax
would be the entering port of Canada " — seems destined to
fulfilment.
As regards population after disasters Hoffman writes:
Even an earthquake such as affected the city of San
Francisco may not materially change the existing numbers
of the population after a sufficient period of time has elapsed
for a reassembling of the former units, and a return to the
normal conditions of life and growth.^
Yet as before remarked, the catastrophe at Halifax
eclipsed all preceding disasters to single communities on the!
Continent of America in the toll of human life.^ In the
San Francisco earthquake the loss was four hundred and
ninety-eight ; at the Chicago fire three hundred ; at the Iroquois
theatre fire in the same city, five hundred and seventy-five ;
at the Chester explosion one hundred and twelve; at the
Johnstown flood two thousand. It is now estiimiated that
the disaster at HaHfax probably passed this latter figure,
decreasing the city's population by four per cent. Not-
withstanding this heavy draught upon the population, the
1918 volume of the Halifax Directory contained six
hundred and fifty more names than the previous year.
In the light of this consideration the following indication
of the growth of population is also of contributory interest.*
1 Hoffman, Frederick iL., Insurance, Science and Economics (N. Y.,
1911), ch. ix, p. 2>^7.
2 In the Texas flood of 1900 there were lost 5,000 lives, but they can-
not be said to have been all associated with a single community.
3 Figures kindly supplied by Mr. John H. Barnstead, Registrar,
Halifax.
129] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 129
Table
1911 46,619
1912 46,619
1913 47,109
1914 47,109
1915 47,473
1916 50,000
1917 • • . • 50,000
1918 50,000
1919 55,000
1920 65,000 1
An index of the growth of practical civic interest upon
the part of citizens is revealed by the comparison of the
numbers participating in political action by means of the
vote. Recent figures for Halifax are :
Year Purpose
1918 For Mayor
1919 "
1920 "
Instead of the disaster resulting in disheartenment and
a gradually diminishing civic interest, the percentage of in-
difference is smaller and the percentage of interest is larger
for 1920 than for 191 9, and the percentage of interest for
1 91 9 is larger than that for the previous year. The number
of eligible voters also shows increase. " The campaign [for
1920] has marked a new era .... and will make it easier
to institute new reforms." ^
Of further sociological niterest is the change affecting
city-planning, civic improvement, housing, health, education
and recreation.
1 The Directory of 1920 estimates the present population to be 85,000.
2 Halifax Morning Chronicle, April 29, 1920.
Political Action
Eligible No. Percentage
Percentage
voters voting of Indifference
of Interest
7,632 2,769 63.8
36.2
8,890 4,264 52.1
47-9
11,435 5,491 51-99
48.01
I30 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [130
In the realm of city-planning ^ and civic imiprovement,
Halifax is awaking to the importance of taking advantage
of an opportunity which comes to a city but seldom save
through the avenue of disaster. The present Town-plan-
ning Board was formed as a result of the Town-planning
Act of 191 5. A board of four members, including the city
engmeer constitute the committee. The limits of the area
to be brought under the scheme were still undecided when
the explosion camie. The disaster "hastened the resolu-
tion "of the Board. " When the disaster came it seemed
that things would have to come to a head." Mr. Thomas
Adams, the Dominion Housing and Townr-planning Ad-
visor, was brought to Halifax to help determine what should
be done. " The disaster simply had the effect of bringing
to a point certain things whicli were pending at the time.
If that event had not occurred we would by this time be
into a scheme, though possibly not so far as we are." To-
day the limits of the area have been defined and the scheme
is nearly ready for presentation to the Council for adoption.
The Dominion Town-planning Advisor's assistant reports
that real progress has been made in the Halifax plan deal-
ing with the proposed zoning of the city into factory, shop-
ping and residential districts, the provision for future streets,
street-widening and building lines, and suggestions for park
and aerodrome sites. In the devastated area he has re-
marked progress in street-opening, in grading of the slope
and in architectural treatment of the houses. Five himdred
1 The earliest city-planning was mediaeval Halifax was laid out by-
military engineers with narrow streets — the "ideal was a fortified en-
closure designed to accommodate the maximum number of inhabitants
with the minimum of space." In 1813 a town-planning scheme was set
on foot for the purpose of straighteni-ng streets, the removal of pro-
jections and banks of earth and stones which at that time existed in the
center of streets. Considerable betterment resulted but unfortunately
many fine trees were cut down.
13 1 ] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 131
trees and three hundred shrubs have been ordered to be
planted in this area. The whole area is under the control of
the Relief Commission, for the Act appointing the Com-
mission gave it the powers of a Town-planning Board.
The disaster may thus be said not only to have hastened
the resolution of the existing committee, but to have pro-
duced two planning-boards instead of one. Each must
keep in mind the true ideal. For it is not the "City
Beautiful " idea, but that of utility that is fundamental to
city-planning. It is a principle to reduce to the minimum
the social problems of community life, to accomplish
Aristotle's ideal — " the welfare and happiness of everyone."
In so doing civic beauty will not be neglected. " Scientific,
sensible and sane city-planning " says an' authority " with
utility and public convenience as its primary consideration
produces beauty — the beauty that is the result of adapting
successfully a thing to- its purpose." It is in accordance
with this principle of civic art that the terminal area is
being developed — a work des:*gned by the same architect
who planned the Chateau Laurier and the Ottawa Plaza with
such aesthetic taste.
To '^ deep cuttings, spanned by fine bridges, and bordered
with trees and pleasant driveways, after the manner of
Paris," and to a " waterfront as stately as Genoa's, a ter-
tminal station with a noble facade, overlooking a square
and space of flowers," ^ the future will also bring to Halifax!
more street-paving, sidewalks, parks, fountains, hedges, drive-
ways, cluster-lighting, statuary, buildings of majesty, spacious-
ness and beauty. Wires will be buried, unsightly poles will
disappear. . . . With time will come all these things which
stamp a city as modern, as caring for the comfort of its
1 MacMechan, Archibald, "Changing Halifax," Canadian Magazine,
vol. xli, no, 4, pp. 328, 329.
132 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [132
people, their pleasure and test, and health and safety. All
these things come with time, effort, development of city pride,
and the concentrated desire of a people for them.^
The question of housing is recognized as an old Halifax
problem. It was already an acute one when the blow of
the catastrophe fell and multiplied the difficulty a thousand-
fold. The Relief Commission has grappled with itsi
end of the problemi, namely, the housing of the many refu-
gees who were first accommodated in lodgings and dn
temporary shelters.^ The old sombre frame-constructed
buildings of the pre-disaster days are being replaced with
attractive hydrostone. A hard-working wage-earning com-
munity is stepping out of indifferent structures into homes
both comfortable and well-ordained.
But the old problem would have still remained unsolved,
had not the city authorities caught something of the re-
construction spirit and felt the sharp urge of increasing
difficulties. Action has been at last precipitated. How-
ever, lacking in comprehensiveness the first attempts, the
city has bestirred itself and has come to realize adequate
housing to be a supreme need of the commiunity and vitally
associated with the city's healtli a,nd welfare. A Housing
Committee of five members has been formed, having as
chairman a man of widely recognized building experience and
as director of housing, a capable citizen. It is intended to
miake full use of the federal housing schemie, in a practical
way, the City Council having reversed its former decisions
and accepted by by-law the obligation which the govern^
ment act requires. It is hoped in this way to promote the
erection of modem dwellings and to " contribute to the
general health and well-being of the community."
* Crowell, H. C, The Busy East, vol. x, no. 7, p. 12.
2 A model housing development of 346 houses in the new north end
has followed the disaster. " It is reasonable to assume," writes an
133] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 133
Thus the principle of promotive legislation and govern-
ment aid, which when finally accepted in 1890, began the
remarkable housing reformi in England, has entered the
City of Halifax, and will eventually write a record of in-
creased health, comfort and contentment. How soon that
record is written will largely depend upon the citizens them-
selves and their response to a leadership that is forceful asi
well as wise.
The matter of health organization in Halifax affords
perhaps the most significant contrast with the pre-disaster
days. Prior to the catastrophe public health organization
was not a matter for civic pride. The dispensary, which
is often regarded as the index of a city's care for health,
had received scant support and could only perform in-
different service. Adequate sanitary inspection could not
be carried out for want of inspectors. The death rate ^ had
averaged about twenty percent for a period of ten years,
and the infant and tuberculosis mortality had been tremien^
dously high — the former reaching the figure of one hundred
and eighty-two." There was no spur to progressive ad-
ministration. The city was too ill-equipped to cope with
such conditions.
Today Halifax has the finest public health program and
most complete public health organization in the Dominion.
The fact that this is so is in very close relation to the
catastrophe inasmuch as an unexpended balance of relief
moneys ^ has been redirected by request for health purposes
observer, "that the standard of living will ascend. Already the in-
fluence of these new houses is showing itself in the homes that are
springing up all over the city."
^London's is 14.6, New York's 13.6.
2 New York's is 90, New Zealand's 60.
3 These funds are from the munificent gift of Massachusetts. A
Massachusetts-Halifax Health Commission has been formed — Dr. B.
Franklin Royer is the executive officer.
134 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [134
in Halifax. A five-year policy has been inaugurated. Fifty
thousand dollars per year of the relief money, fifteen thous-
and dollars per year of the Canadian government money and
five thousand dollars per year each, of the city and pro-
vincial money are to be expended in the five-year campaign.
The sum totals seventy-five thousand dollars per year, or
practically one dollar per capita.
A completely equipped health centre has been established
including all the essential remedial and educational agencies,
namely, pre-natal, pre-school-age, school-age, tuberculosis,
venereal disease, eye, ear, nose and throat clinics. Thero^
will also be provision for the growth of health ideas through
mother's classes, first-aid, and sanitary leagues. A public
health course for nurses is included in the educational cam-
paign.^ A most SHccessful baby-saving exhibit has been
held, and the plan calls for a full-time tuberculosis specialist.
Upon the part of the civic authorities there has been a
greater realization of responsibility. Progressive steps
have been already taken including the appointment
of a Doctor of Public Health, and the provision of
district sanitary inspectors. Restaurants and all places
where food is exposed for sale are being systematically in-
spected with a view of effecting improvements. A single
instance of commendable activity along sanitary lines is the
prohibition of movable lunch cars, which have been seen
on the streets of Halifax for years. The removal of a lot
of dwellings unfit for occupation is receiving the attention
of the officials. In fact it is the intention of the present
Council to improve conditions throughout the city generally
as quickly as is feasible to do so. Another illustration of the
direction of attention to modern social methods is the pre-
sent discussion of plans for a psychiatric clinic for mental
hygiene and the discovery of defectives, especially those
1 Dalhousie University has recently graduated the first class of nurses
in Canada to receive the Diploma of Public Health.
135] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 135
attending the schools. Still another indication of interest
in child welfare is the fact that a clinic for babies was estab-
lished in a central locality and a nurse for babies regularly
employed. The hitherto meager hospital facilities are being
amplified by the building of a maternity hospital and the en-
largement of the children's hospital, — a centralization plan
of hospital service being a unique and distinctive feature. In
the way of industrial hygiene a full-time nurse is employed in
the ship-building plant and here also safety policies have been
introduced and have reduced accidents to a minimum. The
miovement for the control of preventable disease is gaining
impetus and a modem tuberculosis hospital is being estab-
lished. The Victoria General Hospital is being enlarged
and extended, the additions having an estimated cost of
half a million dollars.
But it is not alone ithe activities of the Health Com-i
mission but also the earlier vigorous policy of disaster
medical relief, which is seen reflected in the growing sense
of community-responsibility for health conditions. Halifax;
has come to see the principle fundaimenital to all health
reform, that public health is a purchasable commodity and
that improvement in vital statistics is in close correlation
with the progress of health organization. It remains to
be seen whether so favored a community will also lead the
way in the registration and periodic health examination of
every individual citizen which is the final goal of all policies
of health reform.
The standards of education have always been high in
Halifax. She has been, the educational center of the
Maritime Provinces. Her academic attainments have
brought to her much distinction and not a little glory. Her
public schools boast many a fine record to furnish inspiration
to each successive generation. To secure appointment to
the Halifax teaching staff the applicant miust possess the
136 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [136
highest qualifications. But however much educational lead-
ers may desire them, modern methods and up^to-date equip-
ment await in large measure the public will. Only where
there is a will is there a way. That the public will in Hali-
fax is becoming awakened to the vital role her educators
play is being proven by the response to the campaign for the
expansion of Dalhousie University. That response has been
most generous and general, while local contributions have
been amplified by large benefactions from the Carnegie
Corporation and the Rockefeller Foundation. Of the latter
benefactions together amounting to one million dollars — •
four hundred thousand will be expended upon buildings and
equipment. The modernizing process is shown again in
the decision of the university to establish at once a Faculty
of Commerce and to encourage the teaching of Spanish and
Portuguese in the educational institutions of the city.
In the old teaching methods all are given the same course
of instruction regardless of the individual mental differences.
Today the effort is to provide an education to fit the mind
rather than to force the mind to fit the education. In the
public schools of Halifax there are not lacking indications
which herald the coming of the newer pedagogy. Among
these may be mentioned the opening of sub-normal classes
for retarded children, experimentation with the social-re-
citation system, the display of Safety-First League posters
and the development of those departments already estab-
lished, vis. vocational and domestic training, manual and
physical education, medical inspection, supervised play-
grounds, school nurses, dental clinics, and the wider use
of school plants in evening technical classes.
Halifax will sooner or later decide to employ to the ful-
lest degree all the opportunities which child-training af-
fords. The school system is an institution of society to
mediate between a child and his environment. Children
137] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 137
must learn to do and to be as well as ito know. Their*
plastic minds must receive practice in resistance to domina-
tion by feeling and in the use of the intellect as the servant
and guide of life. To the children of HaHfax is due
eventually a thorough training in citizenship. This is the
last call of the new future in education. It rests upon the
twin pillars of educational psychology and educational
sociology.
Recreation is still another sphere of civic life wherein
the City of Halifax has taken a forward step. In making
lier plans for the future she has not forgotten that the re-
built city should contain every fac-lity for children to grow
up with strong bodies and sane minds; as well as public pro-
vision for the leisure time of the adult population. A Re-
creation Commission has been formed made up of representa-
tives of the various civic bodies and from the civic and pro-
vincial governments.^ A playground expert was called in
by the city government, who after study of the situation and
conference with local groups, recommended a system of
recreation as part of the general city plan. Already marked
progress has resulted; indeed it has been said that the
"municipal recreation system of Halifax has made a re-
cord for itself." A hill of about fifteen acres in the heart
of the devastated area has been reserved for a park and play-
ground. The city has built and turned over tO' the Com-
mission a temporary bath-house, and has set aside the sum of
ten thousand dollars for a permanent structure. The plans
contain recommendations for minimum! play-space for every
school child, a central public recreation area, an open-air
hillside stadium, as well as a community center with audi-
1 It should be stated that the supervised playground movement had
been developing in Halifax for a period of fourteen years, first under
the Women's Council, afterwards under a regularly incorporated asso-
ciation with which the Women's Council merged.
138 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [138
torium, community theatre, natatorium, gymnasium, and
public baths. The neal significance of this movement Hali-
fax has not, herself, as yet fully realized. Just as there is
a close relationship between health organization and mortal-
ity tables, so there is a close association between open
spaces, street play, etc., and juvenile, as well as other forms
of delinquency.^ The moral value of organized recreation
was itself demonstrated in the war, while the increasing
menace of industrial fatigue, as well as the fact of the shorter
working-day, call for public recreational facilities as ai
social policy. This policy is not however fully carried out
with merely constructive and promotive action. It must be!
followed by restrictive and regulatory control of commercial-
ized recreation, and wise and adequate systems of inspection
for amusement in all its forms. This is the path of pro-
gress in socialized recreation.
Progress in cooperation has also to be noticed. There
has been a new sense of unity in dealing with common prob-
lems. The number of things which perforce had to be
done together during the catastrophe was great. This doing
of things together will be continued. The establishment of
the Halifax Cooperative Society is initial evidence of a
m;ovement towards cooperative buying. Cooperation for
community ends even now is revealing itself in the new
interest for the common control of recreation, health con-
ditions, etc. "The disaster," runs an article in the press,
" has given our social movement an impetus. The social
^ In view of the explosion and the resulting housing conditions, an
increase in juvenile delinquency might have been expected, but the
" playgrounds which were established immediately after the disaster,
and which adjoined both of the large temporary housing projects, are,
it is felt, responsible for the excellent conditions which exist The
records of the Superintendent of Neglected and Delinquent Children
show that there was an actual decrease in the number of juvenile arrests
in 1918 over 1917." — (Leland, Arthur, " Recreation as a Part of the City
Plan for Halifax, N. S., Canada," Playground, vol. xiii, no. 10, p. 493.)
139] CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE 139
woirkers of -the different creeds and classes have discovered
each other and are getting together." ^ The organization of
social service which only a few years back took a beginning
in the form of an unpretentious bureau has shot ahead with
amazing rapidity and now exercises an influence of coordina-
tion upon the churches, charities and philanthropic societies
of the city.
The unifying process is well illustrated by the increased
cooperation upon the part of the churches. Following the
disaster the churches of the city united into a' single organs
ization for relief service under the chairmanship of the
Archbishop of Nova Scotia. Since then a Ministerial As-
sociation has been formed which has directed cooperative
effort along various lines and has exercised pressure upon
those in authority where the best interests of the city were
involved.
Thus the City of Halifax has been galvanized into life
through the testing experience of a great catastrophe. She
has undergone a civic transformation, such as could hardly
otherwise have happened in fifty years. She has caught
the spirit of the social age. This spirit after all means only
that the community is just a family on a larger scale, and
the interests of each member are interwoven with those of
all. But merely to catch the spirit will not suffice. It
must be cherished through an inevitable period of reaction
and passivity, and then carried on still further into the re-
lations of capital and labor, into the realm! of socialized rec-
reation and into those multiform spheres of social insurance
whither all true social policies lead.
All these converging lines taken not singly but together
constitute a very real basis of faith in the city's future, and
of hope for permanent changes for the better. Perhaps
this attitude cannot be more fittingly expressed than in the
words of Carstens :
^ Halifax Evening Mail, March 22, 1918.
140 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [140
The Halifax disaster will leave a permanent mark upon
the city for at least a generation, because so many of the living
have been blinded or maimed for life. But it is possible that
the disaster may leave a mark of another sort, for it is con-
fidently believed by those who took part in the relief work
during the first few weeks that Halifax will gain as well as
lose. The sturdy qualities of its citizens will bring 'beauty
out of ashes.'
But it is rather for social than for material progress that
the sociologist will seek and Carstens continues:
It may reasonably be expected that through this Calvary,
thfere may be developed a program for the care, training and
education of the sightless as good if not better than any now
existing, that medical social service will be permanently grafted
upon the hospital and out-patient service of the community,
and that the staff of teachers of the stricken city, by direct con-
tact with the intimate problems of the families of the children
they have in their class-rooms may acquire a broader view
of their work. If there should result no other benefits, and
there are likely to be many, as for example city-planning,
housing and health, the death and suffering at Halifax will
not have been in vain, will not have been all loss.^
1 Carstens, C. C, " From the Ashes of Halifax," Survey, vol. xxxix,
no. 13, p. 61.
CHAPTER IX
Conclusion
Recapitulation — The various steps in the study presented in propositional
form — The role of catastrophe direct and indirect, (a) Directly pre-
pares the ground- work for change by: (i) weakening social im-
mobility; (2) producing fluidity of custom; (3) enhancing environal
favorability for change — ^(b) Indirectly sets in motion factors deter-
mining the nature of the change such as: (i) the release of spirit and
morale; (2) the play of imitation; (3) the stimulus of leaders and
lookers-on; (4) the socialization of institutions.
If the preceding narrative has been successful in setting
forth the facts as they were observed, the reader has now
before him a fairly accurate picture of a community as it
reacts under the stimulus of catastrophe and proceeds to
adjust itself to the circumstantial pressure of new con-
ditions. It will be well, however, for the sake of clearness
in emphasizing our closing propositions to recapitulate one
by one the various steps in our study. These steps while
primarily intended to follow the natural order in point of
time will also be seen to represent a definite sociological pro-
cess of development.
At first the shock of the catastrophe was seen to have been
sufficiently terrific to affect every inhabitant of the city.
This fact gives peculiar value to ithe investigation. The
miore a shock is limited in extent the more its analysis grows
in complexity. In such cases consideration must necessarily
be given to the frontiers of influence. The chapter discrib-
ing the shock also found the immediate reaction to have beeni
a fairly general disintegration of social institutions, and of
the usual methods of social control — in short, a dissolution
141] 141
142 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [142
of the cusftomary. This turmoil into which society was
thrown is sometimes called " fluidity," and, for lack of a
better one, this term has been retained. It would thus ap-
pear that if it were later observed that essential social
changes ensued, fluidity was one of the requisites of
change; and this is indeed in perfect tally with previous
thought upon the subject as set forth in our more theore-
tical introduction and expressed in the proposition that
fluidity is fundamental to social change.
The more general and preliminary treatment over, in-
dividual and group reactions were then examined in greater
detail, and the phenomena of the major sort were singled
out and classified. These were found to be either abnormal
and handicapping such as emotional parturition ; or stimula-
tive and promotive, as dynamogenic reaction. This con-
stituted the material of the second chapter. Put in pro-
positional form! it would be that catastrophe is attended
by phenomena of social psychology which may either re-
tard or promote social reorganization.
Social organization came next in order, and because its
progress was largely expedited by the organization of re-
lief,— the first social activity, — the sociological factors ob-
served in the latter have been recorded. These factors were
classified as physical, including climate and topography, and
psychological, such as leadership, suggestion, imitation, dis-
cussion, recognition of utility and consciousness of kind.
Reference was also made to biological and equipmental
consideration®. Two conclusions of interest are here de-
ducible: first, that part of society which is most closely
organized and disciplined in normality first recovers social
consciousness in catastrophe; second, it is only after
division of function delegates to a special group the re-
sponsibility for relief work that public thought is directed
to the resumption of a normal society. These conclusions
143] CONCLUSION 143
emphasize the conservation value to society of a militia
organization in every connmiunity and also of a permanent
vigilance committee.
The fifth chapter introduced a relatively new element,
the presence of which may be relied upon in all future em-
ergencies, that of a disaster social service. Its contribu-
tion was that of skillful service and wise direction; its
permanent effect, the socialization of the community. The
value of the presence of visiting social specialists is in inverse
proportion to the degree to which the socialization of a com-
munity has advanced. The practical conclusion is clearly
that self-dependence of a community in adversity is furthered
by the socialization of the existing institutions.
The next and latest group to function effectively was that
of government, but social legislation when forth-coming,
contributed an important and deciding influence, and was
itself in turn enriched by the calamity. Brought to the
test of comparison with observed facts the statement in the
itLtroduction receives abundant justification; namely, that
catastrophe is in close association with progress in social
legislation.
To the influences already mentioned ati additional factor
of recuperation is added, — ^the socio-economic one. Dis-
aster-stricken communities cannot become normal until the
social surplus is restored. They may however always coutit
upon public aid. But there is found to be strongly suggested
a correlation between the magnitude or striking character
of a disaster and the generosity of the relief response.
The last chapter is devoted to a cataloging of the indica-
tions of social change from the standpoint of the community
as a whole. The old social order is contrasted with that
obtaining two years subsequent to the disaster. It here ap-
peared that the city of Halifax had as a community under-
gone and is undergoing ao extraordinary social change.
144 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [144
This implies, according to the theory of social causation, an
extraordinary antecedent. Before finally accepting the fac-
tor of catastrophe as such, the scientific reader may very
properly ask whether there are tiot alternatives.
To this query the answer is that there are alternatives,
other very considerable extra-social factors to be noted, but
that catastrophe was itself the precipitating factor there is
little room for doubt. Of the other factors two only are
of sufficient weight for our present consideration. The
earliest in order of time, and perhaps also in rank of imi-
portance is that which Halifax resideiiits understand as the
comiing of the new ocean terminals. The coming was so
sudden in the nature of its announcement, and meant for
many so miuch depreciation in property values, that it had
something of the nature of catastrophe within it. It altered
very extensively the previously accepted ideas of residential
and business and industrial sections of the city, and caused
a jolt in the body politic, such as had not visited it for years
— not since the middle of the nineteenth century brought the
revolutionizing steam. It is not to be denied that this factor
has contributed not a little to the weakening oif immobility,
and the preparation of the ground for an inrush of the spirit
of progress.
The other factor was the war. The war functioned
mightily in community organization for service. It brought
prosperity to many a door, and whetted the appetite of many
a merchant to put the business of peace on' a war basis. But
it would be merely speculation to say that prosperity would
have continued in peace. Indeed such a conclusion would
not be historically justifiable. Halifax has been through
three important wars. In each, " trade was active, prices
were high, the population increased, industry was stimulated
by the demand, rents doubled and trebled, streets were un-
commonly busy." But in each case also Halifax settled
145] CONCLUSION 145
back to her ante-bellum sluggishness. Iti 181 6 Halifax'
began to feel the reaction consequent upon the close of a
war. The large navy and army were withdrawn and Hali-
fax and its inhabitants " bore the appearance of a town: at the
close of a fair. The sudden change from universal hustle
and business to ordinary pursuits made this alteration
at times very perceptible. Money gradually disappeared
and the failure of several mercantile establishments added
to the general distress." But the closing of the war, now
a himdred years later, has exhibited no such relapse. On
the other hand Halifax grows daily more prosperous and
progressive than before. Her bank clearings do not fail,
but rather increiase. There is clearly some further in-
fluence associated with this change.
But there is a very real sense in which the war may in-
deed be said to have been the factor, — if we miean by it the
fact that through the war and as a direct result of war-
service the city was laid half in ruins by possibly the great-
est single catastrophe on the American Continent. If we
mean this, we have named the all-precipitating and deter-
mining event. The catastrophe was an episode of the great
war.
It only remains to add by way of clearer definition
that the role of catastrophe appears to be both direct and in^
direct. FunoLiioninig directly, it prepares the groiund-^
work for social change by (i) weakening social immobility;
(2) precipitating fluidity of custom; (3) forcing environal
favorability for change. Indirectly, it sets in motion
factors determining the nature of the social change, such as
(i) the release of spirit and morale; (2) the play of im-
itaition; (3) the stimulus of leaders and lookers-on; (4) the
socialization of institutions.
Our final principle ^ thus appears to be that progress in
1 The two additional propositions suggested in the the Introduction,
146 CATASTROPHE AND SOCIAL CHANGE [146
catastrophe is a resultant of specific conditioning factors
some of which are subject to social control. If there is one
thing more than another which we would emphasize in con-
clusion it is this final principle. Progress, is not neces-
sarily a natural or assured result of change. It comes only
as a result o'f effort that is wisely expended and sacrifice
which is sacrifice in truth.
That the nature of the social change in Halifax is one
in the direction of progress we think to be based on reason
and not alone on hope. That it is also our fervent hope,
we need hardly add. But every Haligonian who cherishes
for his city the vision which this book contains, may help
mightily tO' bring it to pass by making effort his watchword
and intelligence his guide. We do' not say it will all come
tomorrow. We do say a wonderful beginning has been made
since yesterday. And this is bright for the future. In no
better words can we conclude than in those of one of her
greatest lovers: "Changes must come to Halifax. This
is a world of change. But every true Haligonian hopes that
the changes will not disfigure his beloved city, but only
heighten and enhance the intimate and haunting charms
she borrows from the sea.*' ^
namely, that the degree of fluidity seems to vary directly as the shock
of the catastrophe, and that brusk revolution in the conditions of life
accomplish not sudden, but gradual changes m society, require a study
of comparative catastrophic phenomena for verification or rejection.
1 MacMechan, op. cit., p. :i3^.
INDEX
Accidents, industrial, ii6, 135
Advancement, human, vide progress
Aesthetics, 70
Aggregation, social, 62
Altruism, 51, 58
Ameliorative legislation, vide leg-
islation
Analytic psychology, 49
Anxiety, 38
Anger, 39, 44, 45
Animal relief, 91
Army, vide military
Association, 56, 63; utility of, 62,
142
Associations, state and voluntary,
73, 99
Attention, 17, 20, 54, 55, 134
Authority, loi, 102, 103, 104
B
Behavior, 17, 18, 52, 53, 60, 67
Beliefs, 23, 38, 120
Bereavement, 47
Biological factors in society, 67,
142
Body politic, 44, 69, 144
Bureau, welfare, 139
Business, disorganization of, 31,
59, 113; expansion of, 77, 124;
indices of, 125; relief, 105, 113;
resumption of, 69, 71, 72, 73
Capital, 139
Catastrophe, and crisis, 16, 18;
and communication, 31 ; defini-
tion of, 14; and evolution, 14,
15; and generosity, 57, 58, 115;
and heroism, 55; and insurance,
116; and poetry, 22; and popu-
lation, 128; and progress, 21, 22,
23; and social change, 118; and
social disintegration, 31; and
social economy, 80; and social
147]
legislation, 23, 100; and social
organization, 59, 69; and social
psychology, 35; and suicide, 46;
and social surplus, 1 1 1 ; and
survival, 56; and tragedy, 114,
lis; and war, 14
Cataclysm, vide catastrophe
Causation, social, 144
Centralization, policy of, 83
Ceremony, 120
Change, social, and catastrophe,
20, 21 ; and crisis, 16, 21 ; defini-
tion of, 15, 21; factor of, 15, 16;
and fluidity, 21 ; indications of,
123, 143 ; and progress, 21 ; re-
sistance to, 19
Charity, 22, 97
Child welfare, 87, 88, 89, 90, 98,
135, 137
Churches, vide religious insti-
tutions
Circumstantial pressure, 33, 64, 77
Civic authority, vide municipal
control
Civic improvement, 22, 77, 105,
108, 129, 130, 140
Civilization, 31, 49
Classes, social, 96, 139
Clergy, 74, 83, 84, 139
Clinics, 134
Climatic factors in society, 66, 67,
142
Clubs, 76, 123
Collective behavicr, vide behavior
Commerce, 70, 118, 122
Commercialized recreation, 138
Communication, 31, 57, 61, 62, 71,
72, 73
Community, 19, 21, 32, 49, 55, 62,
67, 78, 80, 84, 85, 88, 92, 95, 96,
97, 100, loi, 109, 115, 135, 138,
143
Comparative catastrophe, 146
Compensation, 90, 96, 97, 105, 107
Component groups, 70
147
148
INDEX
[148
Consciousness, 37, 42, 59. 60, 68,
124, 142
Consciousness of kind, 62,, 6y, 142
Consciousness of underlying dif-
ference, 69
Conservation, social, 79, 84, 143
Conservatism in society, 19, 117,
120
Contagion of feeling, 42
Control, social, 19, 22, 34, 141, 146
Conventionality, 49
Cooperation, 61, 83, 84, 97, 138
Crime, 50, 76
Criticism, 49, 84, 86, 92, 94
Crisis, and catastrophe, 16; defini-
tion of, 16; and fluidity, 18; and
great men, 55 ; and progress, 55 ;
and revolution, 17; significance
of, 16
Crises, in battles, 16 ; in communi-
ties, 18; in diseases, 16; in life-
histories, 16, 18; men skilled in
deaHng with, 83, 98; power to
meet, 8b; in religions, 16; in
social institutions, 16; in world
of thought, 16
Crowd, 41, 42, 43, 45
Crowd psychology, 35, 41, 45
Courts, 96
Culture, 19, 21, 80
Curiosity, 44
Custom, 15, 19, 34, 49, 6z, 67, 69,
120, 142, 145
Cycles, 15
D
Death rate, 133
Delinquency, 138
Delirium, oneiric, 46
Delusion, 35, 38
Determination, 44, 58
Diagnosis, 'social, 92, 121
Disaster, vide catastrophe
Disaster psychology, vide psycho-
logy
Disaster relief, vide relief
Disease, 22, 36, 48, 134
Discussion, ^y, 64, 67, 142
Disintegration of society, 18, 31,
33, 34 35, 59
Dispensary, 88, 133
Distributive system of society, 31
Diversity of capacity, 69
Division of labor, 69, 79, 142
Dynamic forces, 19
Dynamogenic reactions, 52
E
Economic factors in society, 68
Economy, social, 80, 98
Education, 19, 84, loi, 120, 121,
129, 134, 135, 136, 137
Educational institutions, 20, 69, 70,
74, 7^, 82, 85, 91, 95, 135, 136
Educational psychology, 137
Educational sociology, 137
Emergency, 52, 60, 79, 82, 83, 87,
93, 143
Emotion, 33, z6, 44, 46, 47, 48,
52, 53
Endurance, 52, 53, 54, 60
Energies, 52, 58
Environmental effects, 15, 75, 136,
145
Envy, 44
Erroneous recognition, 39
Equipmental factors in "society,
68, 142
Evolution, 14, 15, 56, loi
Exaltation, 45, 46
Expectancy, 41
F
Factors in social change, 15, 16,
22, 144
Family, 59, 61, 74 86, 88, 89, 140
Fatigue, 45, 52, 53, 54
Fear, 39, 44, 45, 64
First aid, 41, 61, 134
Flight instinct, 40
Fluidity, 18, 19, 20, 21, 34, 142, 145
Flux, 19, 34
Folkways, 18
Food-getting, 39, 92
Fraternal societies, 76, 98
G
Generosity, 55, 57, 58, iiS, 116, 143
Geographic determinants, 67, 119
Government, 19, 31, 100, loi;
agencies of, 100; aid in disaster,
94, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107; an
institution of society, lOO; and
leadership, 117; officials, 62, 102,
106; over-emphasis of, 19, 119,
120
Gratitude, 45
Great man, 55, 69
Greed, 44, 5i, 94
Gregarious instinct, 40, 41, 63, 67
Grief, 38, 48
149]
Group, 41, 55, 56, 6o, 70, 142
Group heroism, 56
H
Habit, 17, 19, 20, 52, 69, 117
Habitation, 39, 63
Hallucination, 35, 37, 3o
Happiness, 70, 112
Health, public, 68, 88, loi, 108, 119,
132, 133, 134, 135, 138, 140
Helpfulness, psychology of, 50, 85
Herd instinct, 41, 63
Heroism, 55, 56
History^, 14
Heredity, 67
Homes, 31, 32, 48, 63, 87, 114
Homogeneity, 70
Housing, 114, 129, 132, 140
Hospitals, 53, 66, 88, 90, 135, 140
Human nature, 93, 94
Hyperactivity of imagination, 46
Hyper-suggestibility, 44
Hypnosis, 45
I
Imagination, 31, 37, 46, 114
Imitation, 15, ^3, 67, 77, 14?, I45
Imitation, conditions effecting rate
of, 77
Immobility of society, 19, 20, 120,
144, 145 ,, .
Impulsive social action, 42, 40
Iniemnity, principle of, 95
Indications of social change, 123,
143
Indices of business, 125
Individual reactions, 41, Sh 53, 55
Industry, 31, 69, 118, 121, 144
Industrial, accidents, 116, 135;
fatigue, 138; hygiene, I35
Inhibitions, 36, 41, 49
Insanity, 46
Instincts, 18, 20, 35, 39, 40, 44
Institutions, social, vide religious,
educational
Insurance, social, 105, 116, 125
J
Jealousy, 44
Justice, 19
Juvenile delinquency, 138
K
Kind, consciousness of, 63, 67, 142
Kindliness, 45, 55
INDEX
149
Labor, 139; division of, 69, 79;
legislation, 23, loi, 108
Law, 49, 50, 58, 120
Leadership, 21, 61, 67, 80, 84, 86,
145
Legislation, ameliorative, lOi ;
boundaries of, loi ; and catas-
trophe, 23, no, 143; health, 108;
ideals of, loi ; labor, 23, loi, 108;
mining, 23, 108; marine, 23, 108,
109; promotive, 1335 progress
in, loi, 108, no, 143; social,
23, 100
Like-mindedness, 63, 70
Like response, 41
Limitation of field of conscious-
ness, 42
Lookers-on, stimulus of, 21, 78, 145
M
Magic, 20, 78
Martial law, loi
Maternity, 48, I35
Mass relief, 85
Medical insi)ection, 136
Medical social service, 87, 88, 89,
98, 140
Mental hygiene, 134
Mental unity, 41
Meteorological pressure, 65
Military and naval organization,
51, 60, 63, 68, 88, loi, 102, 122,
143, 145 . .
Ministerial association, 139
Models, 21, 77, 78
Modes of affective experience, 44
Morale, 21, 106, 108, 145
Morality, 20, 97
Mores, 70
Morgue service, 39, 91, 98
Mortality, 112
Municipal control, loi, 102, 103,
104
Mutual aid, 55, 56, 57, 58
If
Navy, vide military
News-notice, 115
Normality, 68, 70, 71, 72, 73, 7%
142
6
Obstruction and the human will,
52
Occupational change, 113
Oneiric delirium, 46
Organization, vide social, relief
Orientation, 123
Original tendencies, 39
Pain economy, 112
Pain, 53, 54
Parental instinct, 40, 41
Pensions, 90
Percentage of indifference, 129
Percentage of interest, 129
Personal crises, 18
Phenomena, of bereavement, 47;
of crowd psychology, 35, 41, 45 ;
diverse, 35; of emotion, 44; of
endurance, 52, 53; post-catas-
trophic, 48; of repression, 49
Philanthropy, 52, 69, 116
Physical factors in society, 67, 142
Physiological reactions, 35, 36, 52
Pity, 39
Pleasure economy, 112
Pluralistic behavior, vide be-
haviour
Plural leadership, 49
Police, 76, 10 1, 102
Political action, 64, 76, 129
Political Science, 103
Poor Lws, loi
Population, 19, 67, 113, 114, 128,
137, 144
Post-catastrophic phenomena, 48
Precipitating agent, 16, 144, 145
Preparedness, 64
Press, 72
Pressure, social, 63, 77
Primitive household, 69
Principles of relief, vide relief
Production, 19
Profiteering, psychology of, 51
Procedure, 23, 79, 102, 109
Progress, in catastrophe, 21, 22,
23, 55, 98, 108, 146; and change,
21 ; degree of, 21 ; and evolu-
tion, 14, 15 ; meaning of, 21 ; and
relief, 80 ; in social legislation, 23
Protocracy, 60, 70
Psychiatry, 134
Psychological factors in society,
67, 142
Psychology, analytic, 49; crowd,
35, 41, 45; disaster, 35, 56; of
helpfulness, 56, 85; of helpless-
INDEX
[150
mess, 49; of insanity, 46; of
profiteering, 51; of reHef, 49,
94; social, 35; and sociology,
19, 35
Public opinion, 23, 84, 86, 93
PubHc safety, 132, 136
PubHc utilities, 71
Pugnacity, instinct of, 40
R
Reconditioning of instincts, 18
Recreation, 19, 73, loi, 129, 137
Recuperation of society, 20, 35,
112, 114, 117, 143
Regional influence, 66
Regulative system of society, 31
Rehabilitation, 83, 85, 86, 87, 88,
91, 94, 98, 104, 105, 107
ReHgion, 64, 118, 120, 121
Religious institutions, 32, 63, 6g,
70, 74, 77, 85, 95, 120, 139
Relief, administration of, 44, 66,
83, 86, 87, 93, 94; division of
labor in, 69; fluctuation of, 116;
leadership in, 61, 103, 116; medi-
cal, 61, 62, 65; military in, 51,
60, 63, 68; organization of, 59;
psychology of, 49, 94; prin-
ciples of, 81, 84, 85, 96; pro-
cedure in, 79; relation to pro-
gress, 80; residuum of, 97; re-
serve, 98; secret service in, 98;
shelter, 6s, 64, 66, 82, 90; stages
in, 85
Repression, 49. 50
Reproductive system of society,
31
Resentment, 45, 49
Residuum of rehef, 97
Resumption of normal society,
70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75
Restitution, principle of, 94, 95
Retrogressive evolution, 15
Revolution, 17, 22
Ritual, 20
Rumor, responsiveness to, 43, 63
S
Sabbath observance, 77
Safety, public, 132, 136
Sanitation, 66, 133, 134
Schools, vide educational insti-
tutions
Science, 33, 88
Security, feelings of, 41
151]
INDEX
151
Self-control, social, 70
Segregation, 64
Self-preservation, 31, 40
Sensation, 36, 38, 54
Sense perception, Z7y 3^
Sensorium, social, 59
Service, social, 80, 82, 84, 98, 117,
139, 143
Shibboleths, 77
Shock, reaction, 31, 2^, 45, 54, 60,
91, 141
Social, action, 64 ; aggregation, 62 ;
^ge, 139; choices, 121 ; conscious-
ness, 60; conservation, 79, 84,
143; conservatism, 19, 117, 120;
contrasts, 32; control, 19, 22,
34, 141, 146; economy, 80, 98;
effects, 75, ^', factors, 59, 67,
142; immobility, 18, 20, 120, 144,
145; insurance, 105, 116, 125;
legislation, 2^, 100; memory, 2Z,
55; mind, 49, 70; order, 143;
organization, 35, 59, 142; policy,
80, 139; pressure, 6z, 77', psy-
chology, 35; reorganization, 69;
sensorium, 59; service, 80, 82,
' 84, 98, 117, 139, 143; specialists,
69, 81, 85, 94, 143; standards,
32; surplus, 68, III, 112, 143
Social change, vide diange
Socialization, 52, 55, 85, 97, 142,
^145
Socialized recreation, 138, 139
Society, ZZ, 35, 49, 69, 70, 7^, 79,
91, 100
Societies, 76, 99
Socio-economic factors, 112, 117,
143
Sociological factors, 59, 67, 142
Sociology, 33, 35, 120; attractions
of study, 13; educational, 137;
and psychology, 19, 35; virgin
fields in, 13, 23
Sorrow, 45, 47
Standar-is, social, 32
Standards of living, 112, 113, 133
State, loi
Static conditions of society, vide
immobility
Statistics, vital, 135
Stimulus, of catastrophe, 33^ 51,
53, 54, 57; of heroism, 55; of
leaders, 21 ; of lookers-on, 21,
78, 145; of models, 78; repeti-
tion of, 45
Struggle for existence, 41
Sub-normal, 136
Suggestibihty, 41, 42, 48, 142
Suicide, 46
Supervised playgroundts, 136
Surplus, social, 68, iii, 112, 143
Survival, 56
Sustaining system of society, 31
Sympathy, 45, 46, 55, 58
T
Taboo, 49, 71
Tender emotion, 45
Themistes, 18
Topography, 6y, 142
Tradition, 32, 120
Transportation, 43
Trade-unions, 51
U
Under-nutrition, 113
Unemployment, 59, 125
Unit in relief, 60
Unity, mental, 41
Utility, of association, 62, 67, 142
Utilities, public, 71
V
Variation, social, vide isocial
change
Vicissitudes, 14, 21
Vigilance committee, 19, 143
Vigor, economic, 70
Vocational training, 98, 136
Volition, 55, 64
Voluntary associations, 73, 84
W
War, 14, 26, 45, 48, 94, 97, loi,
117, 144
Wealth, III
Welfare, 70, 86, 132, 139
Will, 22, 44, 52, 53
Workmen's compensation, 105
Worship, 19, 77
Z
Zeal, 44
VITA
Born at Hammond River, Province of New Brunswick,
Canada. Son of Samuel I. and Mary E. Perkins Prince.
Graduate of St. John (N. B.) High School, the University
of Toronto, Wycliffe College (Tor.). Taught at Ridley
College, St. Catharines, Ont. Appointed to staff of St.
Paul's Halifax N. S. Sjtudied for doctorate at Columbia
University. Subject of primary interest, Sociology; of
secondary interest. Statistics and Social Legislation. Gradu-
ate courses with Professors, Giddings, Tenney, Chaddock,
Lindsay, Andrews, Montague, McCrea. President of the
British Empire Club of the University.
153
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